Erestor and the Nurse
by ScribeofHeroes
Summary: How will Elrond's oldest and newest servants get along if left together to care for Estel?
1. Chapter 1

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, The Hidden Valley, Melkor Morgoth, Steward Erestor, Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer, King Celeborn, Queen Galadriel, King Thranduil, or Estel. I did create Queen Lathwinn and Mellolaes the Nurse.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)**

"Do my sword and armor shine now, Sour-face?"

The oilcloth stilled. The Noldo straightened upon his stool, closed his eyes, and heaved a sigh. His reply was bland with a hint of long-suffering. "They do elfling, as do the blades and armor of all your brothers."

The brows of the younger ellon flew up, but his grin remained. "Elfling? I wasn't born last century."

The older ellon looked over his shoulder. He raised a single eyebrow at the other. "Your behavior proves it not." The servant set the oilcloth aside and stood. Then he turned and held the blade out hilt-first.

The young soldier laughed as he took it. Another Noldo entered the room. He bent his head as he went through the door, for he was taller than most elves. He shook his head with a soft grin similar to the young warrior's. "Are you again bothering otorno nin, onoro nin?"

The young soldier turned while lowering his sword and opening his mouth, but the servant spoke first. "Your blades and armor now shine as bright as they can, Captain."

The third ellon strode up. He took his sword from the rack and raised the weapon above his head. A candle's flame illuminated the flat. He looked up into the eyes his own reflection. His stare softened as his grin widened.

Yet another ellon stuck his head into the room. This soldier's face resembled those of the other two as well. "Why do you three linger so long? Are our blades and armor ready for patrolling on the longest night of the year or not?"

. . .

The servant led a string of horses forth. Six armed and armored ellon stood waiting for them. Every face among them resembled the other five. The tallest wore the insignia of captain. He met the gaze of the servant who stopped before him.

The warrior nodded. "My thanks, mellon nin."

The servant looked over the captain's shoulder with a frown. "'I' would be grateful if you had one of your soldiers change."

The eldest brother glanced back. While he and the other four wore grey the youngest brother had donned a crimson tunic. Their captain sighed. "He is going to have to learn sometime, but we are not really attempting to hide tonight. All this flashing armor you prepared for us would not let us to remain unseen anyway. We go forth to scare away orcs and whatever else Morgoth may have sent to slay, spy upon, or capture us. We do not wish to attempt capturing them. To tell the truth, I would prefer not having to slay any tonight either. They could too easily return the favor."

"'I' prefer you leave the elfling behind. Morgoth's forces may have as little belief in his abilities as I. In such a case, he would scare them little."

The taller elf frowned. "He is skilled with sword and knife. He is even better than the the twins with both, though they are better with bows." The Captain's expression gentled. "Be comforted by the preparations we have 'both' made to ensure my patrol's safety, mellon nin. I shall return to this city before dawn. Twill not be a long wait for you."

"And what if you do not return?"

The armored elf laid his hand upon the other's shoulder and squeezed. "We have made ourselves as ready as possible, crimson tunics aside. Twould take quite a feat for a small, hereby unnoticed force of Morgoth to take us now. When we return, the wearer of the crimson tunic will tease you mercilessly for your worry." He gripped his friend's shoulder. Then he winked. "Perhaps you should prepare for that."

The corner of the servant's mouth quirked up. The officer grinned, mounted, and road by his brothers. His steed's four-footed companions trailed behind them. The other soldiers mounted these as they passed. The warriors matched their brother's riding posture. He led them out through the city gate. The servant watched them leave from a few steps inside it. His mouth had set into a thin line.

. . .

The six brothers rode through one canyon and then another all throughout the night. Their mounts trusted them to guide them over smooth paths. Elf-eyes could find these in the light of stars alone.

Bare rocks did not provide much welcome for wild things. Other than the beats of hooves and breaths of horses all seemed still. Little changed upon their passing. The elder brothers found this comforting. The youngest found it chaffing.

When they came to a flatter, open place, the soldier in crimson urged his horse into a run. He passed all the others. Then he pulled ahead several lengths. His eldest brother opened his mouth. Then the captain's jaw fell open.

From the few rock formations ahead of the lone rider fell shadows. At the sight of them, his youngest brother turned his horse back. As he raced toward them again, arrows flew through his route from both sides. His mount reared. The rider grasped the horse's mane.

The Captain bellowed. Two pairs of soldiers veered off toward the rises from which the arrows flew. The Captain raced to his youngest soldier.

The moving darkness flooded from the shadows to meet them. The light of the stars touched them. Dozens and dozens of orc leers were seen.

. . .

The one who had readied the patrol's armor, swords, and steeds watched for them. He stood not behind the gate, but upon the city wall. They were late, not an hour late yet, but time edged that way.

Figures appeared on the horizon. Horses neared two abreast. They walked slow. One limped. All their riders were hunched over. This made their height difficult to discern.

The servant raced down the stairway. Then he sped toward the gate. He remained standing before it until a shout came from outside. The ellon shivered at its sound.

The keepers of the gate slid aside its bar. The portal swung open. Two ellons on horses entered. Neither wore the insignia of captain. Two more came after them also not wearing it.

Black splotches sullied their armor, tunics, and steeds. Their heads were bowed so their chins rested upon their chests. When the last two horses entered one had no rider. The other steed bore an ellon wearing a torn, crimson tunic spotted with darker red.

He held a familiar sword in his lap. He himself was too small to wield it. The blade was long and heavy, made for an unusually tall, strong elf who was not there.

The servant collapsed to his hands and knees. His hair fell over his face to lie in the dust. The year's last and longest night was over, but his was just beginning.

. . .

A knock sounded from the office door. Erestor looked up from his paperwork. "Enter."

An elleth with dark hair and blue eyes did so. She gave a curtsy and gentle smile to the steward of her lord. "The tables have been set in place, covered with clothes, and hold their displays of dishes, Steward. Would you like to inspect them before the guests are invited down?"

Erestor rose from his desk and nodded. "Yes. Yes I would."

. . .

Imladris' Steward marched between tables staring at first one and then the other. The white palm-sized cakes Galadriel loved and which her maids devoured as well were stacked like towers. They numbered four dozen exactly.

Berries filled mithril bowls. Wine bottles sat so their labels could be easily read. Identical sugar-frosting sculptures sat facing the same direction. Imladris' head-servant nodded. "Well done."

Every servant lined up to watch his inspection smiled. A raised voice came from above and to their left. "Erestor!"

The ellon turned. He raised his gaze to the head of a flight of the stairs. Elrond grinned down from their top. "Is all ready for our guests?"

Erestor bowed deeply at the waist. He kept his gaze upon the flagstones and tone grave while addressing his lord. "My lord Elrond of Imladris, all indeed lies ready for your many and exalted guests."

The face of Earendil's son glowed."Excellent! Then let this year's Yule celebration begin!" He turned toward a pair of open doors behind him and clapped once.

Elves spilled out of the house chattering and chuckling. Folk from Lothlorien surrounded their King and Queen. Those from the Grey Havens glanced around with appreciation, but unsettled longing still cried out from their eyes. Lathwinn and Thranduil stepped out with a few of their more sedate citizens trailing them.

Soon, all three groups had swept down the stairs leading into the courtyard and milled about with the native elves of the Hidden Valley. Then a question began passing from one pair of elvish lips to another. "Where is the Lord of the Golden Flower this year?"

Pairs of younger lips asked, "Where is our great hero the Balrog Slayer? Is he off on another adventure instead of celebrating the new year with us?"

Some of the boldest approached their host. "Where is Glorfindel this year, Lord Elrond? He has always welcomed the new year with us in the past, ever since we began to jointly celebrate the occasion together in your Hidden Valley."

Elrond took his time dipping his chin in a nod while continuing to meet his guest's gazes with hard eyes. His tone came forth deep and low. "He is seeing to a most important matter tonight. I fear this task will not allow him to join us."

The eyes of his questioners widened. Many gave a curtsey or deep bow before replying. "Oh! I hope he succeeds mightily in it then, Lord Elrond. He must of course. He is the Balrog Slayer." Then they flew off like anxious starlings. Elrond listened from afar as they shared what they had learned with others. His expression remained grave.

Erestor watched all these happenings from the shadow of a column. He noted how many of each item each ellon and elleth ate, how much each of them drank from each bottle of wine, even who talked to whom and of what. He caught the questions and guesses about the Captain of Imladris and his absence. Their guesses caused him unease. They came dangerously close to the truth.

Of late, orcs had become restless at the roots of certain mountains. Could this be calling the Balrog Slayer away? Still, twas nothing like elder days. Orc raids hurt "men" most now not elves.

Erestor shut his eyes. He shivered. Those of his people who remained on these shores were safe. A certain mortal was safe. All was well enough for now. Erestor opened his eyes and went back to studying his lord's guests. Dozens of couples danced in the space left for that purpose. Others sat on the edges of fountains and chattered like the churning waters.

Tilpithen's swans of white frosting were as lovely as they were sweet. An ellon from the Grey Havens ate one of her creations with a besotted grin aimed at her. Erestor hoped he would not pull her over the sea with him. Where could Imladris find another such sculptor of spun frosting?

All seemed to be enjoying the feast. Bakers, farmers, and vinters stood near the provisions they had brought or baked receiving compliments upon them. The corner of Erestor's own mouth quirked up. He knew well how much each of his fellow Imladris citizens deserved their praise.

Erestor could predict who would wish to make what, who would actually provide what, how much they would provide of what, and at what time. His lord made the Hidden Valley's weather predictable. Droughts and wet years need not be figured into calculations for supplies within the valley. Bruised feelings of fellow servants and Imladris farmers might. Trade with allies had to be taken into account also. Dry and wet years did affect their supplies as did the wording of letters sent to them.

Dwarves preferred to celebrate elsewhere. Still, they were important to take into consideration when it came to festive success. They provided beer, grain, and mushrooms brought from Bree or even as far away as the Shire.

So much to consider. So much to do. Each year victory or defeat was declared after the festivities were through. To think he had once thought he'd sailed east in vain.

"Why do you hide here every year, Erestor?"

The Steward turned. The Lady of the Golden wood smiled upon him. He looked back out to the other guests. "I find it easier to assess from here. Were I closer to any of them, I would see less of all of them and they more of me. Then they might wish to converse with me then. I would be unable to overhear other important conversations while they did."

Galadriel gave a chuckle. Sparkles danced in her deep-blue eyes. "Most 'important conversations' this year seem to be about Glorfindel's absence."

Erestor nodded. His gaze still lingered upon the whole courtyard rather than what some said was the fairest face in Middle Earth. Galadriel, however, seemed fascinated by the hard profile beside her. She spoke in soft, whispered Quenyan. "Why is Glorfindel missing from tonight's celebration instead of you?"

Erestor replied in the same language, but in a growl. "Because he is harder to hide than I. He cannot do as I am doing now."

"He could gain a general sense of things. He is observant. He would enjoy himself here more than thee."

"Neither of us serve in Imladris to enjoy ourselves, though we do. We are here to be of service to our lord."

"And you would be doing him a great service if you had taken the position Glorfindel now holds."

"I do a vital one here he could not do so well."

"Erestor ... between the three of us, Glorfindel, Elrond, and I could come to know the minds of most of these here, how happy they are, who is dissatisfied, who is leaving. As for the servants, surely you who watch over them realize they no longer need watching. They perform their tasks to perfection with loyalty and love alone. So why not enjoy yourself this joyful day of the year?"

Erestor switched to Sindarin, again responding without looking at her. "My Lady ... I think you are being missed."

She glanced down to the courtyard. Her maids and others with them glanced up, down, and around. In three seconds, they had spied her. Those not her maids waved. Her maids themselves began to move toward her with slight frowns. She sighed and briefly gripped her fellow Noldo's arm. "Think upon the words I have spoken to thee, Erestor." Then she departed. He watched her go.

. . .

Dawn came. The guests faded away from the festivities like the stars from the sky. When the last one not the King of Lothlorien, his queen, or her maids had gone, Erestor oversaw the courtyard's cleanup. As he went back to his Lord's house, the entourage from Lothlorien followed.

Being elves, the half-dozen trailing him made little sound. Despite this, he was keenly aware of their presence. Warm breaths brushed his back rather than a cool draft. When he had neared his goal, Erestor heard the queen shooing away her maids. Celeborn, though, refused to leave his queen's side.

When he had came to the right room and gripped the doorknob, Erestor turned to face them. Celeborn was giving him a chagrined smile. Sparkles danced in Galadriel's eyes. "I want to see him."

Erestor turned the knob and pushed the door open. The frame moved on its hinges without a squeak. He had overseen their oiling himself.

The tiny form within the room did not stir. The large body sitting upon a stool beside the small bed though, caught the movement of the door from the corner of his eye. He turned.

Erestor raised his eyebrows. "You did not even reach for your sword, Balrog Slayer? Should I tell our lord what kind of a guard you truly are?"

Glorfindel gave a playful grin. "I am enough of a guard to know when only fellow elves approach."

Celeborn peered around Erestor at the soldier. "You were much missed at the festivities, Golden-warrior."

The form in the bed stretched, and then gave a soft sigh. All the elves stilled save Galadriel. She peered around Erestor to watch. The Steward turned his raised brows upon her. "Satisfied?"

She grinned and gave a soft, happy sigh. "He looks well indeed now. You must do a fine job with him all of you."

Celeborn now led his wife in the direction her maids had gone. Erestor stepped inside Estel's room. He closed the door behind him and went to Glorfindel's side. "I will take over until our lord has rested."

Glorfindel looked up with raised eyebrows. "Before comparing notes with him on the night's celebration?"

Erestor nodded. "There is nothing of great importance to report from this night save how you were indeed missed by all who did not know what your vital mission was."

Glorfindel grinned. Then he rose. Despite his doing so silently, Estel blinked his eyes.

The boy saw Erestor and bolted upright. "Erestor, you came! I wanted to ask you a question."

Glorfindel chuckled. "And why did you not simply ask me, mellon nin?"

Estel shrugged. "You don't answer them as good."

Glorfindel bent his head to whisper into the steward's ear. "Try not to smirk too much, mellon nin." Erestor, however, did not attempt to hide his smirk as he sat down upon the then vacated stool.

He leaned forward with a seriously furrowed brow. His face stopped less than a handbreadth from the boy's. He spoke in a low, even tone. "Now ... what is this pressing question of yours, my lord's son?"

Estel's head tilted in the direction of his window. "I heard crickets chirping outside. Then I realized, I don't know how they chirp. How do such tiny bugs chirp, Erestor?"

The Noldo straightened and gave a grave nod. "Ah, as it so happens I have wondered the same thing myself. Once, I observed a chirping cricket carefully for a few nights in a row." He leaned forward and began to fill in the child on his observations. The boy listened still and wide-eyed.

. . .

"Why am I turning brown, Erestor?" Estel placed his hand over the ellon's. The child's tan contrasted with the paleness of elven skin.

Erestor glanced at the sight. Then he looked back to the book he was going to read Estel. "Since Mellolaes arrived eight days ago, you have been spending a great deal of time outside beneath the sun. Mortal skin turns brown under such conditions."

Estel's eyes widened. "Will it kill me?"

Erestor opened his mouth to reply, but Mellolaes engulfed the child in both her arms, drew the boy close, and spoke first. "Of course not Estel! Have you burned your skin while out in the sun with me?"

Estel wiggled. Mellolaes lessened her grip. The boy spun about and blinked up at his nurse. "Burned? My skin can burn in the sunlight?"

Erestor replied first. "Yes, Estel, mortal-skin can be burnt red by the sun. However, this only occurs when the sunlight is particularly harsh and you remain exposed to it for a great length of time."

Estel's head spun back around. His eyes were as wide as silver coins. Mellolaes kissed the top of his head. "I watch both you and the sun carefully while we play beneath it, Estel. I lead you into the shade when I fear your skin might burn. Some sunlight is good for our skins. I make sure we both get the right amount. You don't have to be afraid of the sunlight with me."

Estel's bunched shoulders relaxed. A grin spread across his face. He turned back around and hugged her. "Thanks, Melly!"

Erestor glanced at this. Then he looked back to the book and began to read aloud.

 **If I do something right please tell me. If I do something wrong please tell me that too so I can fix it. I admit I don't know as much about the second age of Middle Earth as some others. So if you have noticed some flaw in my portrayal of it please alert me kindly. :)**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	2. Chapter 2

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, The Hidden Valley, Silvan elves, Noldo elves, Steward Erestor, Lord Elrond, his brother Elros, Lord Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer, or Estel. I did create Mellolaes the Nurse.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained.**

"Estel. Why do you stare at your plate?"

Mellolaes' head snapped around. She gripped her skirt under the table. Erestor did not look away from their charge. His brow remained furrowed as he studied Estel who still studied his meal.

The boy's chin rested in his hands as his elbows sat on his knees. Large, grey eyes rose to meet Erestor's. His bottom lip protruded. "I'm not hungry anymore."

The ellon opened his mouth, but words burst from Mellolaes' lips first. "I fear this is my doing, Steward Erestor."

The Noldo looked away from his lord's son. His brows rose as his gaze met the nurse's. "You're doing, Merilvidian? Will you please, explain."

The elleth smiled nervously. "We've been playing outside. And the lawns, meadows, and woods here offer so much wild fare fit for humans."

Erestor's eyes widened and voice lowered. "You have been teaching my lord's son to 'forage'?"

Mellolaes blinked. "Well … My people simply think of it as … eating. His stomach truly is growing uncomfortable. Perhaps we can feed what is left on his plate to the horses or a rabbit?"

Glorfindel strode around the corner. Estel sat up and grinned. Then he looked to Erestor. The Steward nodded, "You may go to Glorfindel and tell him of your day as you accompany him to his rooms."

Estel leapt down from his chair. "Thank you! Good meal, Erestor!"

Both the ellon's brows rose. The boy noticed not the expression on the steward's face. He was too busy racing for The Balrog Slayer.

The Lord of the Golden Flower went down on one knee to greet his small friend.

The child threw himself upon the grinning elf. Once they'd embraced and exchanged greetings, Glorfindel rose and took the boy's hand. Estel launched into a series of "Know whats," and "Guess what Melly and I did today"s. Still smiling, the ellon asked "what" while leading his friend into the house.

Both steward and nurse watched the soldier and boy disappear. Mellolaes then turned and smiled upon the Noldo. "Estel is one of the most polite children I've ever watched and cared for."

Erestor turned back his gaze to meet hers again. "I would imagine so. However, Merilvidian, I must say your teaching so young a mortal as Estel to forage is concerning."

Mellolaes straightened in her seat. "Indeed, Steward Erestor? Why ever so?"

"At best, his nutrition levels will be thrown off. We desire to keep him in peak health through their careful balancing. At worse, he could grow overconfident of his skills in telling the wholesome from the poisonous. He might eat something from the latter category when you are not with him."

Mellolaes crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "I have already warned Estel about foraging without me. Indeed, I have 'desired' to further his education on poisonous plants to prevent such an event. I have not found any in this valley to point out to him, however. So, I show him pictures of them in books instead. Should he face dire circumstances, would not such knowledge prove vital?"

"We have kept poisonous plants out of this valley since we began raising mortals here."

Mellolaes raised an eyebrow. "That may be wise in the beginning, but prove fatal once the mortals leave this place. I always make 'wild meals' with little ones lessons. Estel can identify five more plants today than he could yesterday. He knows which are edible. I've neither taught him to find nor to eat mushrooms at all, yet, nor have I let him see 'me' eat them. I point out shrooms and plants with poisonous lookalikes when we see them and tell him not to eat them just in case. I know a great deal about human nutritional needs myself. I can identify signs of deficiencies in mortals, by sight, smell, and through The Song itself. Estel is healthy. 'I' intend to keep him so."

Erestor raised an eyebrow at the elleth in return. Then he took a drink from his water-glass. As he set it down again, he spoke in a mild tone. "I will make Lord Elrond aware of his son's new lessons and habit of eating between meals. If he agrees to them, and we find Estel in no worse health than before, your views shall be vindicated. If not, such doings must cease."

Mellolaes nodded while rising from her seat. She smoothed her skirt. "I find that solution suitable." She glanced back at her own empty plate and then cast the ellon a glance as she curtsied. "Thank you for the meal, Steward Erestor." She left as the steward picked up his water glass and took another sip behind her back.

. . .

"I find this inappropriate, Merilvidian."

The elleth raised an eyebrow at Imladris' Steward as she smirked. "What is inappropriate about it, Erestor?"

The Noldo sighed. After serving in Imladris only a few months, the Silvan had already become less formal. "For one thing, I sincerely doubt those who must wash Estel's laundry will appreciate the task of removing new hairs."

"I can give them good hints on how to do so. Are you really going to separate these two now?"

The elleth stepped sideways. Behind her, the moon illuminated Estel's bed. Tucked under his chin, a curled-up, orange-striped kitten purred. The boy grinned in his sleep.

The nurse looked back to the steward. She raised her chin and set her hands on her hips. "Estel will feel more secure in his sleep and when he is awake as well. He will also learn the qualities of love, tenderness, and responsibility. These are all good traits to develope, yes?"

Erestor's lowered voice came out a barely audible hiss. "And when the creature dies?"

Mellolaes' chin dipped. She stepped forward. Both hands left her hips and clutched his arm. Her own voice softened. "Hopefully, that will not occur for sometime, but sadly, there are lessons Estel must learn somehow, though they be painful. Do you really want the world beyond Imladris to be so great a shock to him when he leaves?"

Erestor continued to stare at the boy and kitten a few moments longer. The Silvan elleth could feel him melting in The Song. She smiled.

Erestor glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. Then he gave a stiff bow. "Very well, I will take the matter up with Lord Elrond. If he agrees, the kitten will remain with Estel. I assume you have provided the creature with proper … facilities?"

Mellolaes grinned. She pointed to a wooden box in the corner. The small crate was filled with sand. Then she pointed to two dishes in the opposite corner. One was still half-full of water. The other contained crumbs. Erestor nodded. "Carry on." He turned and strode away. Mellolaes smirked after him.

. . .

As Erestor turned into a doorway, two blurs slid by him in socks. His eyes widened as his gaze followed the giggling forms. Mellolaes plucked Estel up and held him as she herself turned and bumped harmlessly against a wall. She grinned down at the still laughing boy. "Was that fun?"

"Yes."

Erestor rolled his eyes, turned, and walked back out the way he had come.

. . .

Estel and Mellolaes strode out from the barn grinning and covered in hay. The child raced up to Erestor and grabbed hold of his robe with both fists. "Erestor! Melly and I jumped down from way up in the loft and into the giant hay-stack!"

. . .

"Erestor! Erestor! Melly and I pet a wet bumblebee!"

. . .

"Tell me what the problem is, exactly, my Steward."

The steward met his lord's gaze with a slight scowl. "I fear Merilvaidian encourages rather … 'dangerous' behavior in Estel."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "He hasn't come to even small harms in her care."

"I know, my lord, but ..."

Erestor fell silent as his lord leaned forward. Elrond rested his elbows on desk and steepled his fingers. "Are you certain this doesn't have more to do with his picking up 'Silvan' behaviors from her?"

Erestor sighed and closed his eyes. "Perhaps ..."

Elrond nodded. Then he leaned back in his chair. "We knew this might happen when we sent for her. I have found no true harm in it. He still obeys us. He behaves far better than just before she came. He loves her and she him. She hasn't even asked for the money we promised to pay her yet, and only for a little time to herself. We can provide the latter when we prefer to care for him 'ourselves.' Where truly lies the trouble, mellon nin?"

Erestor opened his eyes, but lowered them to the floor as he folded his hands behind his back. Elrond's grin broadened. "Could this perhaps be a crumb of jealousy?"

Erestor closed his eyes. His voice tightened. "Of course not. It is only … she is … startling at times. My nerves strain slightly in her presence. Even when she does nothing, a small amount of tension remains, because I am 'waiting' for her to do something."

Elrond's deep voice was a little too solemn and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I see."

Erestor stiffened. His lord was trying not to laugh at him. The steward almost blushed.

Then the Peredhel's eyes widened for a moment. He leaned forward again. A ridge appeared between his eyes and over his nose. "Does she touch a raw place left by another?"

Erestor raised his gaze just enough to stare at the surface of his lord's desk. He did not blink. He did not look up. He did keep his voice even. "I have seen harms done due to the lack of proper care, yes."

Elrond sighed and leaned back in his chair again. "I have always appreciated the proper concern and care you give your tasks, Erestor. I also appreciate, however, Mellolaes' experience and love for my child. I trust her with him. I think you should as well. Then you two would get along better. Estel would be better for it."

Erestor closed his eyes and gave a slight bow. "Forgive me, my lord. I will try not to waste your time with such matters again unless I have more evidence of true danger."

Elrond's brows rose, but he nodded. "I do forgive you, my steward. You are excused… if you are certain we are finished with everything you wish to discuss."

Erestor bowed again while keeping his eyes closed. "I am sure, my lord. Thank you for your patience. Good day." He strode to the door, opened it, and exited.

After the door had closed, The Lord of Imladris sighed and crouched back over his desk while picking up a quill pen. He certainly hoped his oldest and most faithful servant nd newest and most lively one could learn to coexist.

. . .

As Erestor shut the door behind him, his lord's question echoed through his mind. _Does she touch a raw place left by another?_

He had gone through three homes this side of the sea before his lord and his lord's twin were born. He had made himself vital in each home through his work, usually involving paper, pen, and an inkwell. He wrote down records of the rise and falls of his people's cities and heroes, and recopied them when they fell apart. He also checked and rechecked supplies, inspecting them for flaws: spoilage, leaks, rust, wear, and tear. That was all Elrond knew, and Elros had known, about him.

They had never really questioned him about why he did these things, or if he had always done them, and for who. Centuries before meeting them, he had kept out of sight of those he thought would first notice and then pity him. Soon everyone knew grief. His people had looked to the future with fear. Emergencies were easy times to put off long talks about the past. Finally, all had concentrated on moving into the next age with hope.

Most he interacted with now, had forgotten or never known. Those who did know, did not often question him about it. They knew he would not answer.

He had crossed the sea to keep his friend safe, or at least know his fate. He had failed in the first, and wished he had failed in the second. Failure was an ugly thing and so easily fallen into. How could any be careless, or be allowed to be so?

He was only the Steward, though. It was not his place to question Lord Elrond's decision. Still, he would continue to keep watch over his lord's house, and his lord's youngest son. It was his duty and purpose. Why else was he here?

 **Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	3. Chapter 3

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, The Hidden Valley, Steward Erestor, Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer, Elladan, Elrohir, nor Estel. I did create Agargol the Healer and Mellolaes the Nurse.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)**

"Are we really making medicine, Melly?"

The elleth smiled as she bent over the plant and picked the leaves she felt the most potential in, carefully leaving the rest. "Of course we are, mellon nin." She turned to place the leaf in the basket Estel held up, but paused with the leaf before his face. "See the color?"

Estel tilted his head and nodded. The elleth's smile widened. "Remember it well. 'This' shade shows how good it will be for curing colds in mortals."

The boy's eyebrows rose. "It will make mortals warm when they are cold?"

Mellolaes shook her head and laughed. "No. I fear only another warm form of flesh or fire, or sunshine does that. When a mortal is sick with a certain sickness though, it will help them heal."

Estel grinned. "Oh."

He held the basket up higher. Mellolaes dropped the leaf into the basket.

. . .

"Lean into each press, Esel. Use your own weight."

Estel rocked forward. His tongue left his mouth in his effort. "Like this?"

Mellolaes looked over his shoulder and watched the juice bubble forth and solid substances turned to mush beneath the pestle push. She clapped. "Yes, yes, Mellon nin. Well done."

She bent over and pressed a kiss to the boy's head. One hand released the pestle to rub the kissed spot, but Estel stood a little straighter and grinned before bending over into his next press.

. . .

"Agargol, what is contained in these jars?" Erestor's brows had furrowed into a "V."

He gripped a wax-sealed lid and held the round container before the healer's eyes. Through the glass an unfamiliar shade of green could be seen.

Argargol leaned back against the shelf behind him and bit into a carrot. He studied the jar's contents while chewing. The longer he let Erestor feel the awkwardness draw out, the less steam he would deal with when he replied.

The Healer feared his lord's steward not. As second-in-command of the Healing Ward, Argargol answered only to Elrond. He swallowed his bite of carrot and nodded. "That, dear Erestor, is a new concoction we are trying."

"And why, when we are the most renowned healing center in all middle earth, are we trying new healing concoctions? Is there a flaw in this ward's practices I should know of?"

Argargol waited until Erestor had finished before taking "another" bite out of his carrot. He chewed several times before swallowing. "We often have over-potent mixtures on hand for the slight ailments we treat. Using these takes much study and precise measuring. Also, some of the rarer plants imported from far away lands get over-stressed from too much harvesting, or so Galasmaed says. Mellolaes, having explored our valley, told Galasmaed and I she knew of healing mixtures our own, wild plants could be made into. While not as potent, their ingredients are more plentiful. They can also accomplish the same tasks when more lavishly ingested by or applied to a patient."

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "And what is the point of these more lavish ingestings and applications?"

"With the potent mixtures we often have to measure out miniscule proportions for mortals, especially manlings. Not to mention we have had a difficult time training mortal students in the creation and use of our potent treatments. Young mortal students are particularly incapable of handling such potions with the necessary care. With these mixtures of Mellolaes', Estel can begin to learn more healing arts now. He can make mistakes and be generous with her ointments, teas, and tonics. He even helped Mellolaes and I prepare them today. Our Lord's son seemed quite happy to be about his adda's work."

Erestor closed his eyes and counted to fifty. Argargol bit off, chewed up, and swallowed three more bites of carrot. When the healer finished off his vegetable, he raised an eyebrow at the Steward. "Is there a problem, Erestor?"

"I have no idea what these new mixtures do, are, or how fast we shall run out of them! I have ordered supplies, and kept enough of the old mixtures on hand so exactly for centuries we've not had to add new shelves nor run out of something for all that time! Now I not only don't know what we need! I don't know what we have!"

The corners of Agargol's lips twitched upwards. "Well, I think I can recall enough to tell you, but to be even more certain, you could talk to our Silvan nurse ..."

. . .

Mellolaes made short bursts of air pop from her lips. She was marching a clay troll across the floor step by step. "Boom, boom, boom." Her troll approached the figurine of a dark-haired ellon upon his horse. Mellolaes made her melodious voice oddly low and gravelly. "Me eat you!"

Estel swept his arm in an arc. "Ah-hah!" Another mounted ellon, identical to the first, had rushed the troll's left side. The second ellon's spear-point entered the troll's ear. Estel grinned wickedly. "Got you!"

Mellolaes swung her troll around to face this new threat. It's wooden club rushed toward the horse's shoulder. Her higher, melodious voice returned. "Oh no! The the shoulder of Elladan's mighty steed will be smashed!"

"Not if Elrohir stops it!"

Estel grabbed his other figurine and trotted it toward the troll. Mellolaes backed her toy away from the Elladan figurine and opened her mouth, but a sound came from the doorway. "Ah-hem."

The elleth turned to see Erestor standing in the doorway and staring at her. She raised her eyebrows. What could the steward want to see her about now? He usually avoided her. He must know how important her job was today, why she kept Estel busy with this activity.

Nevertheless, Mellolaes rose to her feet, brushed her skirt, more from nerves than to rid it of any clinging dust, and moved toward Erestor. She turned back to point a finger at the three figurines while still moving forward. "Give me a moment, mellon nin, and keep up the attack. I'll have the troll give a good death-cry when I return."

Estel looked up and gave her a grave nod. "Okay, Melly." The boy nudged the Elladan figurine toward the backed-away troll. Then he reached for Elrohir to place him at Elladan's side.

A golden kitten sat in the corner of the room. He had been staring at the unfolding drama on the floor almost since it began. Now, he rose to his four paws and approached the scene. Then he sat back down and smacked the troll with one paw. Estel looked up. "Little Glorfindel! Don't do that!"

Mellolaes turned back to her charge. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Why not, Estel? Shouldn't the Balrog Slayer give aid to thy brothers?"

Estel's eyes widened. Then he picked up the troll and waved it back and forth before his pet. "Rarrr! Raaaaaa!"

Little Glorfindel started back onto his haunches. Then he raised both paws with claws out and smacked either side of the troll's head.

Erestor raised an eyebrow for Mellolaes to notice when she turned back to him. She paused and tilted her head at him. "Is something wrong?"

"What if the creature scratches, Estel?"

Mellolaes glanced over her shoulder. Estel had picked the toy up by a hand-length metal rod protruding from the figurine's back. The whole set had these rods. They could be picked up and scooted forward easily by them. Little Glorfindel's paws were smacking the loathsome, wooden form many places, but they would have to reach far indeed around to harm his master.

"I would say that is unlikely. If he does, I will tend to Estel's hand and tell him of the importance of being careful with other creatures, even our dearest pets."

Erestor cleared his throat. "Very well, but I'd like to know why you added so many new mixtures to our healing supplies and what they are."

Mellolaes turned a grin upon the ellon. "Oh, is that what you wish to ask me about? Would you mind if we wait? I'd like an opportunity to quiz Estel upon what he learned the day we made them."

Erestor stopped himself from squirming. Having something extra or out-of-place in his lord's house was like an itch he longed to scratch. "Why must we wait for this 'quiz'? We can take Estel to the Healing Ward and give it to him now."

Mellolaes frowned. "He needs to keep doing 'this' a while longer. Besides, you know he will need a distraction within a few days."

Erestor felt his teeth clamping together. She was right. He glanced at the boy. Little Glorfindel had just abandoned their game and was heading back to his corner. Estel raised his gaze to stare after the creature's tail. The mortal pouted. "Awwwwww! Glordel, come back!"

Mellolaes, knowing she had won, turned and walked back to her charge. "Glordel is bored now Estel, but I shall play with you again."

Estel grinned up to her. "Yay!"

Erestor frowned and smothered a growl at Mellolaes' back. She had departed their conversation without a word of acceptance or dismissal from him. The ellon turned away himself. A shrill voice stopped him. "Erestor, aren't you going to play with us?"

He turned back to see both boy and elleth staring up at him. He cleared his throat and managed to keep his countenance and voice smooth. "Not now, Estel, but later perhaps. In fact, in a few days I would like you to teach me something."

Estel sat up straight. He set his hands upon his knees and stared with much wider eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, about the new mixtures in the healing ward."

Estel blinked. Then stood up on his knees spread his arms wide. "Huzzah! That will be the best day ever!"

A grin flashed like lightning over the ellon's face. Then his gaze flitted to the elleth's smirk. Erestor cleared his throat again. "Yes, Estel, I'm sure it will be." The noldo turned away again and this time strode away as well.

 **If you didn't like something tell me. If you did, tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 ** **ScribeofHeroes****


	4. Chapter 4

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, or Estel/Aragorn. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes and Tilpithen.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

"Won't you give me the recipe for the Silvans' famous glaze? Please Mellolaes. It would make our Silvan dishes so much more authentic for your people when they visit us. Please, please, please!"

Erestor froze outside the door from the hallway into the kitchen. A laugh rippled through its wood to him. "I'm sorry, Tilpithen, but no. Silvans are sworn to secrecy on the recipe for that glaze. Tell you what though. While I'm here, when you make the Silvan dishes for my kin, I'll make our glaze in secret and let you coat our creations with it."

The door slammed open. The elleth started. Mellolaes turned wide green eyes upon the ellon. Tilpithen darted down behind the table and stared over its surface with eyes wider than her companion's.

Erestor glanced down at the bowls before the elleth to see one filled with honey and the other with cherries. "We have never coated our cherries with anything. They are not like the fruits that grow in Green Wood the Great. Their trees came as saplings from far away, eastern lands. They are best eaten in their raw form by elves and cooked in pastries for dwarves."

Mellolaes tilted her head as she stared at him. "But … their long stems work so well for dipping. Where is the harm in taking advantage of that to try something new?"

Tilpithen squeaked. Erestor glanced at her before looking back to Mellolaes. "Our recipes work as they are."

Mellolaes crossed her arms over her chest. She took one swaying step toward him and bent at the waist to lean further forward. "'Sometimes,' things can be improved."

Tilpithen's eyes widened further. Her fingernails dug into the table's edge.

The furrows in Erestor's face deepened and darkened. His eyes flashed beneath bulging brows. "I think you will find that not so in Imladris, maiden."

Mellolaes straightened. Her eyes squinted as she took another step toward the Noldo. "I suppose that is why you sent for me in the first place."

Tilpithen's eyes widened further still before they, her brow, and the crest of her hair disappeared behind the table too.

Erestor's eyebrows rose. Then they lowered still farther as his teeth ground into each other. His voice went tight. "We sent for thee to care for Estel when we could not, and 'only' to care for him when we could not. Where 'is' your charge now, nurse?"

Mellolaes arms uncrossed so she could set her hands upon her hips. "Out with his brothers. I'm letting them play together a great deal today, without me. I grew bored and came in here to try cooking, which I often do when I am bored. I found Tilpithen here. She asked me to teach her how to better make Silvan dishes. So, I am."

Another squeak came from behind the table. Mellolaes glanced in its direction. Her eyebrows rose again. She looked back to the Noldo. Her hands becoming fists on her hips. "Why do you scare her so?"

Erestor looked to the table and elleth hiding behind it. "Tilpithen, go out and look for vegetables in the garden."

The elleth darted from the table and then disappeared through the door in a flash of hair and apron strings. A slam echoed behind her. The two combatants she'd left turned from the sight to glare at each other again.

Moments later, Tilpithen came a finger-length of space away from slamming into her Lord's twins. Their little brother clung to Elrohir's hand. Identical pairs of eyes widened at the near collision. Elladan stepped back and reached his arms out to fend the elleth from him. "Whoa now! What chases you Tilpithen?"

The cook clasped her hands. "I think Mellolaes might attack Erestor, or he her! She is Silvan! And he is a … a …" She glanced down at Estel. He stood open-mouthed and staring at her like she'd lost her mind.

Elladan and Elrohir's brows lowered. The younger twin spoke next. "How absurd. I'm sure no such thing shall happen today or any other, Tilpithen."

Estel's brows furrowed into a dark v on his forehead. He crossed his arms over his chest. He looked a strange mixture of the conversation's topics. "Yeah! That's ridiculous! Melly and Erstor would never do that!"

The three strode around the elleth and toward the kitchen's entryway. As they reached the doorstep, a shout blasted through the wood. "I am NOT causing chaos! I am simply adding things to this place, which should have been added to it centuries ago!"

The elven twins and manling froze. Thus, they heard clearly the much quieter and colder reply. "'You' are rose-bush growing wild in an otherwise well-kept lawn. No one will notice the perfection of all else if one thing bursts forth out of place. 'Especially' when its nature makes it unmissable. Yours must be the loudest nature I've come across among house-servants in Arda or Valinor."

"Oh, your arrogance screams in The Song like a cat with its tail stepped on!"

Both twins swallowed. Elrohir released his little brother's hand. "Estel … go with Tilpithen to find ada."

Estel stood with slumped shoulders and wide, moistened eyes. He turned stumbled dumbly toward the elleth biting the end of her thumbnail. She plucked him up and raced toward her lord's office.

The twins shuffled outside the door. Another shout blasted through its wood. "If I were REALLY making things so bad for everyone in this valley, someone would have spoken to me other than you!"

"Everyone else is treating you like an honored guest, but you are not a guest. You are a servant. You should, therefore, act like one."

"Making healing mixtures, cooking, and doing the job I was brought here to do isn't being one?!"

Elladan looked to his kin and gestured to the door. _Want to be first in the advance this time, brother?_

Elrohir turned a dark scowl upon his twin. _Now, you exercise some caution!_

Erestor's raised voice brought both their gazes and thoughts forward again. "It was not 'my' influence which brought you to this position in the first place, Merilvihdian."

Both brothers' frames stiffened. The forgot to interfere and instead held their breaths while waiting for the reply. A far quieter, chill-inducing tone emanated out to them. "So … you finally say it. You never wanted me here."

"I wanted Estel 'properly' cared for."

Both elved warriors grit their teeth and leaned away from the door. The elleth's voice coming through gritted teeth did not make them sorry they had. "And you find this is not so with me?"

"I find your work … troubling."

"Why?"

"You do not want me to answer that."

"I think I do."

"No. You do not."

"I do."

"You do not."

"Say it, Steward!"

Both elven brothers covered their ears. Neither dared move to draw them away again and listen for the steward's response. Several moments of silence passed before it came.

"I do not approve of a Silvan as reckless and unpredictable as you being the guardian let along care-giver of my lord's most fragile treasure, which lies as close to his heart as his own flesh and blood."

Mellolaes voice came forth a hiss hard for even elven ears to detect. "He 'is' his own blood and 'flesh'."

Even the twins could sense the horror coming through The Song from Erestor.

"How did you learn of this?"

"I am not a fool."

The twins didn't see the steward's expression at Mellolaes words, but they could guess. The next sound they heard was the clang of a metal dish hitting marble floor. Then they heard it spinning there.

Eladan grabbed its handle and thrust the door open. He stepped in with Erestor just a half-step behind and at his side. Both twins froze. Their jaws dropped open at the sight before them.

Mellolaes stood rigid as firewood arms straight at her sides and fists clenched. They must not have always been so, though. On the floor, a pace or so in front of Erestor's feet, was a mostly empty bowl. All over Erestor's face, and some of his hair, was honey with cherries sticking in it here and there.

The twins did not unfreeze, until Erestor took his dark stare off the Silvan to fasten it upon them. They then both stepped back and to the side to place the doorframe between them and him. Mellolaes took the opportunity. She turned and sped through the doorway faster than Tilpithen had, like an arrow released from the string.

 **Even lovely elves lose their tempers, sometimes. ;)**

 **If you liked something please tell me, if not you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	5. Chapter 5

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Glorfindel, Feonor, Maglor, or Estel/Aragorn. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes and Tilpithen.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

What were you thinking, my steward?"

Elrond could not even look at his oldest servant. The twins had just taken a weeping manling to bed. Mellolaes had still not come back. Glorfindel had gone to look for her. Erestor stood before his lord's desk head bowed, but jaw and fists clenched tight. "I … apologize, my lord."

Elrond glanced up and took in the sight of his steward. "You do not seem overly apologetic to me, and you still have need to apologize to her."

Erestor's head snapped up. His eyes snapped as well. "I realize I antagonized the elleth, but …"

"But she threw a bowl of honey and cherries at you. I know. Elladan told me." The younger ellon had not been able to get through his description of said event without laughing. His adar, however, had not been amused.

Elrond continued to stare at Erestor, before shaking his head. "Truly, my steward. All you have lived through, yet you cannot get along with one Silvan elleth?"

"Despite all else I have lived through, I've never had to live with a Silvan in such close quarters longer than a month and a half."

"And near the beginning of this age you put up with fifty of them being here so long. Regularly you have put up with Legolas for just as long if not longer still."

"The former time they mostly avoided us. They especially evaded coming indoors when possible …"

 _Into your domain,_ Elrond thought but did not speak aloud. Instead, he continued to listen.

"And Legolas is not always like his wilder kin. He possesses some of the tastes and mannerisms of his father's people as well."

"A taste for refinement and air of dignity, you mean."

Erestor nodded. "Yes, that is what I mean."

"And Mellolaes has neither? Like Lathwinn, her queen, she is 'never' impressed with our great art and always speaks plainly?"

"Well … no … she is not … 'as' unimpressed with our work, nor as plain-spoken as their queen."

A glint sparked in Elrond's eyes. A smirk spread over his face. He resembled Elladan still more. None could guess Imladris' lord had imparted his eldest son's mischievousness and cunning to him, until they saw him so. Erestor had seen this side of his lord before, and knew he'd been cornered. He slumped.

The half-elf continued to stare at him, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers with a smug expression. "Indeed. We could have gotten an even 'more' Silvan nurse, Erestor. Not all her people are so interested in fine-craftsmanship nor so polite. We could have gotten an 'all' healer or an 'all' warrior to watch Estel. You should be grateful we did not."

Erestor stifled a sigh. How often 'had' he wondered why Estel's nurse could not have come from anywhere, but the Greenwood? When he moved on from this contemplation, he wondered why if she "had" to come from the Greenwood, she could not have been a Doriath-Sindar, or even a half or "whole" Noldo? There were a few sprinkled throughout their kingdom he had heard. None of these pure Noldos of Greenwood had ever came to Imladris, however. A few half or even quarter-noldos had. He was often impressed with them. That friend of Legolas', Tirven, was a calm and polite youth. Why could not his sister, or the elleth he loved, have become Estel's nurse? They were both healers. With some surprise Erestor had even learned the latter was a friend of Mellolaes and almost as fond of young creatures as she. Why could not the other of the two have come? He "had" been busy lamenting so Silvan a nurse had come to them. So busy at it had he been, the thought had not occurred to him their call for aid could have been answered by worse.

Erestor sighed. "Perhaps, you are right, my lord …"

Elrond pinned his steward with a stare. "I am. And you are going to apologize to Mellolaes for your earlier words when Glorfindel brings her back."

. . .

Glorfindel found his quarry in a Willow Tree. She sat on a branch over a deep creek. Drooping branches veiled her from sight, but he wondered how no other had thought to seek her here.

She was certainly not still. The elleth kicked her bare feet over the water aimlessly. Glorfindel had noticed if Silvans were not tense with fear or anticipation, they could not keep still.

The Lord of the Golden Flower climbed up and out to Mellolaes. A man of his height, breadth of shoulders, and depth of chest could not have been supported by the branch. So, the sight might have seemed odd to mortal eyes. The branch neither bent nor groaned beneath them, though.

Mellolaes herself, with her ample bosom and hips, weighed hardly more than a quail. Glorfindel was like less in weight than he seemed. A man had once found carrying the Noldo's body as easy as carrying his own small child.

Instead of speaking right away, the golden-haired warrior leaned back into the tree trunk. Then he stretched out one leg. There was room, for Mellolaes was quite far out on the limb. Glorfindel stared at her then.

She had glanced at him as he climbed. Now, she kept her gaze on the water beneath them. Her cheeks were pink as a wild rose.

While no passionate attachment arose in him at the sight, Glorfindel thought she made a pretty picture so. It was a pity so many of the other servants agreed with Erestor about Estel's nurse being plain in appearance. Still, he could not sit and admire a Crafter-Silvan's beauty too long. He must get on with his mission. "Erestor is not a kin-killer."

Mellolaes' head spun around. Green eyes stared into Glorfindel's. "What?"

"While telling me of the last hour's events in the kitchen, Elrohir said Tilpithen feared you and our Steward might attack each other. She thought so, because you are Silvan and Erestor is … something she would not finish saying. That in and of itself made her meaning clear. Before seeking you, I made certain Tiplithen's false notion about Erestor was put to rest."

Mellolaes still stared, but her expression had gone lax . She leaned her head onto a fist and her elbow upon a knee. "Is that why Tilphiten was so nervous while Erestor was angry with me?"

Glorfindel chuckled. The golden sound rippled over their surroundings and seemed to make all others, the bird and insect songs, the moving water, and the rustling leaves, more sweet. Then the Noldo replied. "Tilpithen was nervous, because she is Tilpithen. She has always been eager to please Erestor because he is the household Steward. Those nervous and needing praise wish most to please those highest in authority. You should see her trying to speak to Lord Elrond."

Both elleth and ellon laughed then. Her laugh was rawer than his, like notes from a rougher made instrument, but it still made finer the music around them. Indeed, both laughs had something in common if one listened. The ellon and elleth did. They smiled at each other when they had fallen silent again. Glorfindel broke the quiet by speaking with a gentle smile. "You and I are alike, Mellolaes."

The elleth started so she almost fell off the branch. If she hadn't been elven, she would have splashed into the creek and sunk to its depths. Green eyes stared wider than ever into blue. "I'm what?"

"Like me in a way."

Mellolaes hung half-way off the branch gripping it with one leg and both hands as she stared up and blinked again. "How?"

"We see the world as golden, you and I."

Melloleas pulled herself fully onto the limb, leaned toward him, and tilted her head in curiosity as she stared at him. Glorfindel grinned and went on. "We expect the world to be golden. Gold can be forgotten, tarnished, covered in soot or mud. Almost always though, there is a glimmer to reveal it. Gold never truly loses its glow."

Now Mellolaes' eyes and face shone. Her soul stirred in understanding at his words. The elleth nodded and whispered, "I know what you say …"

Glorfindel nodded back, but his grin disappeared. His voice lowered and softened. "Erestor sees the world silver …"

Mellolaes tilted her head and squinted. She had sensed a tension in Imladris' steward. Despite how straight and hard he held himself at all times, she sensed beneath his spirit was as restless as his body still. Her face creased in sorrow. "What do you mean?"

Glorfindel gave her a sad smile. "Silver is easily tarnished, easily loses its shine. Indeed, you might not know just how bright it can be made until you polish it. And you must often polish it to keep it bright rather than dim. Erestor works as if all in his care is silver. And when he sees you, he sees …"

Mellolaes' sorrow disappeared. A harsher edge came to her expression and tone as she turned away. "Tarnish."

Glorfinel's smiled wider at the back of her head. His voice came forth deep and low. "No, not tarnish, just someone not eager to polish. You see not silver, Mellolaes. You see gold. Where Erestor would see lost causes, you see a glimmer of goodness and hope. In nature, in rough-hewn wood, in common thread and common bread, you see gold. And he cannot understand seeing so much in such plain things. When you see his bright silver accomplishments you are in awe, for a moment, but then you move on. You see no use for your talents there. In a way, you are right. Your particular glory is needed elsewhere."

Mellolae turned wide eyes back upon Glorfindel. "My particular 'glory'?"

"The most Glorious One gave a glory to every free person to bathe their surroundings. We elves have the most obvious glory, but you have seen how each free creature imparts their dreams to the world around them."

"Though not with full intent, animals change their environment for the better too." Mellolaes' gaze had gone soft as she studied her toes. A different flush and glow painted the contours of her face. Glrofindel grinned at the sight. "Exactly."

Mellolaes' eyelids drooped as did the corners of her mouth slightly while she continued to kick her feet. "Erestor has a fine 'glory' himself."

Glorfindel's grin grew less broad, but no less warm. "Indeed."

Mellolaes' mouth twisted. She squinted again. Glorfindel's grin fell away as he studied her. Finally, the elleth looked back up and met his gaze. She twisted her mouth, not sure how to start. "You said he was not …" She shrugged. "I don't like to think of any of you that way."

Glorfindel relaxed, leaned back further into the tree, and nodded. "I am glad for that Mellolaes, more glad than you can guess."

Mellolaes tilted her head further. The she shrugged again. "How?"

Glorfindel straightened. "How did Erestor avoid it?"

Mellolaes nodded a second time.

Glorfindel gave a curt nod back. "He was with the third group."

Mellolaes blinked. "But they turned back."

Glorfindel nodded again. "They did."

"But he was not with them then?"

"He was."

"Then how ..?"

"He jumped."

"He what?!"

"He jumped overboard and swam to the second group, to the ship I was on. He'd packed a great many things to bring to the eastern shore, things we could have used or would at least have greatly treasured, but he left them behind when he chose to take a swim in the sea. I helped pull him aboard our ship. It was then I first truly took notice of him. We were all impressed, and amazed, and thought him crazy, though he spoke like a sane elf afterward."

Mellolaes stared open-mouthed. She blinked before speaking. "Why?"

Glorfindel's smile fell away. He bowed his head and intertwined his fingers. He stared at them. "We all went for differing, yet, similar reasons. I was enraged at the destruction of the Trees. Even if we failed to get back the last of their light, I at least wanted to make Melkor pay for destroying them. Feonor, I think, wanted the same. His sons did too and believed in him. Others believed in or had sworn friendship to them. Erestor though ... He had no desire to see the eastern shores nor tame them then. He believed not in Feonor. He had his doubts we could either retrieve the silmarils or avenge the Trees. He …" Glorfindel sighed.

Mellolaes leaned forward and land a hand on his clasped ones. He looked up with widened blue eyes into her wet green ones. She spoke soft and sweet. "He had a friend?"

Glorfindel stared even wider eyed, but then relaxed and nodded. "His only friend."

Mellolaes straightened. Her mouth dropped slightly open. "Only?"

Glorfindel gave a sad grin and sighed. "Erestor was the eighth child born to his parents with four older brothers, and three older sisters. His mother was often silent and busy, but she spoke prettily when she did. His father spoke less prettily, more boldly and bluntly, and was stubborn. He had many friends, though. His wife made them all feel comfortable in their home. Two of her daughters helped her in this. Another liked to work with her father and brothers building walls. Erestor was the fussed over baby at first, which he grew to hate. He liked the preparations for the parties when he was able to help, but not the parties themselves. He'd grown to hate crowds, being the cute child there."

Mellolaes giggled at the images in her mind. Her cheeks flushed prettily. At the sight, Glorfindel smiled and went on, though he knew Erestor would long to kill him for sharing so much already. "Eventually, he grew to love drawing. He could create whole rooms, whole houses that needed his talents to make them straight and clean even if they were confined to a page. Then he became so obsessed with perfect lines and angles he gave up drawing real things and just made designs. He was quiet and solitary doing so. Once he lost his cuteness, his family almost forgot him. That was when he was noticed by his friend. One famous craftsman noticed his drawings. He was entranced by them and determined to see real things with such complexity and perfection. That seemed a true challenge to him. He mastered it. Then Erestor was entranced. He began not only drawing more, but taking care of other matters for his friend, so the other could put his whole attention to bringing solidness to paper and charcoal images. The friend had only younger brothers more restless than he. His parents liked the help Erestor provided them with at home.

Mellolaes had once again set her cheek in the cradle of her hand and elbow in the nest of her knee. "What happened?"

Glorfindel bent his head and sighed. "His younger brothers loved Maglor. They believed in him and Feanor's quest. Their eldest brother did not, but he could not let his younger kin go on such a dangerous mission without him. He went as well."

"And Erestor followed him."

"Yes."

"What happened to his friend?"

Glorfindel bowed his head further still. His voice came forth barely audible. "He did not survive past the first century. He was pulled from his mount in a skirmish. His brothers got away." Glorfindel went silent for a moment and then finished. "Erestor came to hate them. He left their city before it was destroyed. Then he left the next when destruction came for it as well. He finally reached the shore of the sea and settled down to help other refugees. He came to serve most willingly the remnants of Doriath and Gondolin. So it was no wonder he eventually swore fealty to their shared royal sons."

Mellolaes sighed. "It is a sorrowful story, yet lovely in a way."

Glorfindel sighed also and looked up catching her gaze. "You see, Merilvihdian, Erestor spent much of his early days here bolstering others in their fight against attempts to destroy them, attempts which often succeeded. Now he attempts to keep as it ever was the Last Homely House even as the world seems to grow grey, tarnished, and dim around it."

Mellolaes eyebrows rose. "Seems to?"

Glorfindel grinned and gave her a wink. "We two can usually find a glimmer even now."

Mellolaes grinned back showing the dimples in the corners of her mouth. Glorfindel gazed back into the openness of her eyes. The elleth's eyes grew moist and voice dropped to a coo. "Thank you for telling me this."

Glorfindel reached out and took her hand. "You are most welcome, Mellolaes." He spoke her name carefully. The elleth blinked and looked into his entreating eyes as he bent closer to her. "Now, I have a request to make of you, one most important to me."

Mellolaes' voice came forth breathless and trembling. "Allllrrrriiiight …"

A grin flashed over the Noldo's face. "Do not tell Erestor I told it to you all this. He would be most furious with me."

Mellolaes yanked her hand away and laughed at him. "What? Is the Balrog Slayer frightened of one who has never seen battle?"

Glorfindel's grin fell away. "He did see a few, though he did not participate. He defended himself and others at times, but only behind walls. However, I do not fear him truly in 'that' way. You know yourself, though, how he can make his displeasure felt in any room he enters and for some time after he leaves it. I am not Tilpithen, but I have my limits in what I wish to live with." He winked at Mellolaes.

The Silvan's grin became a soft smile. She winked back. "I shall never tell."

 **Here is the next chapter. Please review if you can, so I can make the next one even better.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	6. Chapter 6

**I neither created nor own Valinor, Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, or orcs. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes and Tilpithen.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

Sleep filled the manling's mind as fog permeates the air. Then, a breath warmed his face. Curiosity caused him to drag one eyelid up.

Mellolaes grinned down at him. "Good morning, Estel. Did you want to tell your brothers farewell?"

Estel flung the covers aside before leaping from his bed. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Mellolaes rose from her perch on the mattress and stepped over to his closet. Without realizing the uselessness of it, Estel stuffed a foot into one of his boots. Then his shoulders sagged.

His hanging head swayed to look over his shoulder. Moist, grey eyes pierced his nurse's back. "Melly, are you going to fight with Erestor again?"

The elleth spun to face him. Widened, green eyes stared into the boy's face. "Why would you ask me that, Estel?"

"It's just … aren't we all going to tell my brothers farewell together, and … and then see them off?"

Mellolaes turned back to his closet. She pulled out a pair of pants and turned back with a nod. "Yes."

"So … you and Erestor will be there together?"

Mellolaes clasped the clothing to her chest. She blushed, but turned to meet the manling's gaze. She gave another nod. "Yes, Estel." After apologizing to each other in Elrond's office, before his desk and the gaze of Imladris' lord himself, the Silvan elleth and Steward had mostly avoided one another particularly in Estel's presence. Mellolaes now realized that had been a mistake. "Yes, Estel, but we will be careful not to fight. We will be saying goodbye to both of your brothers after all."

A scowl etched itself into Estel's face. He turned fully around and back to his boot. "Why aren't you 'always' careful to not fight?"

Mellolaes' front teeth worried her bottom lip. She set the pants down on the bed's coverlet and smoothed them. Then she pulled the rumpled, skewed coverlet up into place and smoothed it as well. The elleth finally sighed. "I am sorry, Estel … I regret what I did, and what I said, to Erestor. I am also sorry you heard me say those things. Do you forgive me?"

Estel's shoulders drooped. When he turned back, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. His grey eyes pierced again. Then he sighed and reached up and out to her. "Okay, Melly."

The elleth grinned, "Thank you Estel." Then she clapped and reached back out to him. "Come on then, we need to get you dressed so you can tell your brothers goodbye."

. . .

Melly held Estel perched on her hip. That way he was "almost" as high up as his brothers. They only had to bend down a little to embrace him. Despite his grinning lips, Elrohir has a slight crease above his nose and between his eyes. Elladan, however, beamed all over his face. "Farewell brother."

Elrohir gave Estel a nod. "We will see you as soon as we may."

"Likely, we'll return a few times before the frost settles."

"And between the first snow and the heaviest we'll return to stay until summer."

Elrond stared hard upon his sons as they spoke. Long before it had been decided the best time for them to hunt was from high summer to the heavier rains of fall, and then again from the first frost to heavy snow. At such times, the ground was firm beneath horse hooves. More importantly, their prey came out from beneath the mountains at night.

Orcs were not overly fond of rain or snow, neither was 'their' prey. However, during harvest time, prey was fattened and winter coming. The orcs attempted to "harvest" then as well.

Early spring, after the winter had forced them to starve, was prime hunting time for orcs as well. The powers of life though, were high then too. The spring was not a friendly time for dark things. That was why their masters tried to get decay, not new life, to settle-in during a thaw.

The ground was slick beneath horses' hooves then either way. Thaw weakened roads and rocks. Starlight was often veiled by the steam in the air. To tell the truth, everyone in the valley wanted their Lord's sons home during that time.

If they hunted enough before winter, there might be no to little need to hunt again in the spring. Orcs were as likely to eat each other as anything else. Large groups were the most likely to venture forth to attack others.

After saying goodbye to Erestor with a nod and wrist grip each, Golfindel with a half-embrace and pat on the back each, and Estel with a full, tight embrace each, the twins turned to their adar. Elrond stepped forward. He enfolded them in his arms one at a time. During both embraces, he spoke a blessing into an ear. Then he stepped back and watched his eldest sons mount.

The twins spurred their horses forward a length. Then they turned them back toward the group gathered to say goodbye. Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Estel, and even Mellolaes raised a hand in farewell. The warriors reciprocated the gesture. Then they turned their mounts back to the road and spurred them forward. The swift start became a race.

Elrond gave a soft grin and shook his head. Erestor rolled and raised his eyes to the sky. Glorfindel chuckled. Estel stared and sighed. "When will they be back, Melly?"

She hugged him tight. "Soon Estel. In the meantime, we will keep ourselves busy, maybe make them surprises for when they return?"

Estel straightened in his seat upon her hip and turned a grin up to her. "Yeah!"

Mellolaes laughed. "Alright, let us begin then."

She turned and walked to the house. Estel spun in her hold. Over his nurse's shoulder, he stared after the dots on the horizon.

Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel remained rooted where they were. When he thought his youngest son sufficiently far away, Elrond's chest rose and fell in a sigh. Glorfindel laid a hand upon his shoulder. "They will be well, I think, my lord. Each in their own right is a fair warrior. I would think one of them unlikely to fall except against a great horde. Together, they are three times as deadly. Only an army could finish them then. Armies of orcs have not been seen even in the darkest parts of the Misty Mountains for some time. They themselves have been witling their numbers down for centuries.

"I know." Yet, after saying this, Elrond did not smile, nor did he seem to blink. Mortal eyes could no longer see the dots upon the horizon. Estel had long since given up and turned away, but Elrond could still see the forms of his sons. Even when he no longer could, he refused to look away.

Erestor glared grimly in the same direction. "At least they are wiser than some."

He turned and marched back into the house, thinking he'd given the Silvan nurse a sufficient head-start. They had years still before them. Likely they couldn't avoid each other all that time, but this was all the more reason for him to do his part to avoid her when possible.

Glorfindel turned to stare after Erestor. He raised an eyebrow. Then he looked back to his lord. Elrond might not have heard or understood for all he had reacted. Glorfindel sighed and laid a hand on his lord's shoulder again. "They are not their mother. But they will likely get help from her mother's people and your brother's too. Have faith, my lord. Your house has been preserved for a purpose."

Elrond swallowed as tears sprang to his eyes. "I wish I had your faith, Lord of the Golden Flower."

The other ellon sighed and raised his own gaze to the horizon again. "Mine was a long time coming." Glorfindel patted his lord on the back next, turned, and went into the house himself. There was a time others had to be left alone. He knew this well.

The golden Noldo went in search of Erestor. Him he had to confront rather than comfort. Glorfindel found the steward in his own chambers going through papers. The Balrog Slayer stepped over the other noldo's threshold. "What were those words you gave our lord?"

Erestor's eyes went from scanning a page left to right to scanning the ellon in his doorway up and down. "To what do you refer specifically?"

The taller ellon stepped inside and slammed the door shut. "'At least they are wiser than some?' You truly thought that helpful?"

Erestor looked back to the paper, putting it down and scanning the one beneath it. "It is true enough, and comforting enough."

Glorfindel crossed his arms. "Sometimes, mellon nin. I do not think you know what 'comforting' means."

Erestor looked up from the paper and met Glorfindel's burning gaze with his frigid one. "What was I supposed to say? 'Nothing shall happen to them.' 'Much' can happen to them. They are only better off than many, because Elrohir is wise, usually. And Elladan is at least serious upon the hunt for that which hurt his mother. They perform their task grimly for all they pretend it is not so before others."

Glorfindel sighed. The fire went out of his blue eyes. He shook his head. "There is no 'joy' in you most of the time, mellon. And too little hope."

Erestor looked back to his papers setting another aside. "And what, do you suppose, caused me to be so without both?"

Glorfindel dropped his arms and went to the other elf laying a hand upon his shoulder. Erestor stiffened. He did not look up as Glorfindel spoke in a hushed tone. "You do not know you will not see him again."

Erestor's voice cut like the letter-opener on his dresser. "I know 'you' didn't."

Glorfindel flinched and removed his hand. He tried to meet Erestor's gaze, but it would not rise to meet his own. The warrior tried again. "Erestor … I have told you I am sorry …"

Erestor's stare finally snapped up. It was enough to make most wish it hadn't. "Let us get this straight once and for all, 'if' that's possible. Nearly the last age has indicated it isn't. I don't blame you for not looking. Whyever once released back in Valinor should it have occurred to you to do so? You had Ecthelion and others among your own friends with you there. 'We' ourselves, were not then 'friends.' Our shared goals this age are all that make us thus now. However, if you ran across his brothers there, you should have run into him accidentally as well. Or at least seen him with his parents at great gatherings."

"I should have asked them then for you. I don't linger often in the midst of crowds or …"

"Yes. You were never fond of places you have no room to stretch your enormous legs. I know. I do not blame you for these things. But I now know. He is not there. He is not here either. His fate was not yours. His fate was not mine." Erestor's voice, so cold and crisp, finally cracked. He gave up the charade and slapped the papers back onto his desk. "Blast! I know I wrote the dwarves of the Blue Mountains we no longer want gems from them in trade! Tiny, useless things for all but the most miniscule of decorations are those they've traded in ever since they lost Erebor! We have all those we need."

Glorfindel stared with a sheen of moisture over his blue eyes. He bent sideways to meet the stabbing gaze of the other. His voice came out as gentle as before. "Erestor …"

The ellon looked back into his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Don't look at me like that!"

Glorfindel rose to his full height and sighed. Then he took a step toward the door. He opened it before turning slightly to look back. Now his own face was grim. "Just don't punish Mellolaes for another's sin."

Erestor's mouth dropped open. It snapped shut almost the next instant. "Get out."

Glorfindl slowly nodded, then turned back, and stepped out while shutting the door behind him.

Erestor leaned upon the bannister of his bed. He allowed the shaking to begin, but not go on for too long. He took deep, concentrated breaths and went back to his search through the copies of letters he'd sent to the Blue Mountain dwarves. He found the line he looked for on the second page he'd put down. He frowned. How could he have missed that the first time around?

 **If you liked something please tell me, if not you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	7. Chapter 7

**I neither created, nor own Middle Earth, Imladris, the Misty Mountains, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor, Estel/Aragorn, Legolas, nor Glorfindel. Tolkien did, and I am eternally grateful. I did create Mellolaes and Cuilbron, however.**

 **This piece is for entertainment purposes only. So please read and be entertained.**

Days went by. Mellolaes went over the bottles she and Estel had filled with Cuilbron. Then she let Estel show them off alone to Cuilbron, Erestor, and his ada. Like his littlest son, The Lord of Imladris needed distraction and cheering. However, when Mellolaes walked Estel to his lessons with Erestor, she made a point of greeting the Steward with a smile and cheerful voice.

Erestor's eyes would narrow. Then he'd return her greeting with an even tone and civil words. In his mind, though, he wondered at the abrupt change in the elleth.

Being so reticent toward change himself, the elleth's behavior toward him did not so much puzzle as arouse suspicion in Erestor. Legolas, like Elladan, had been known to pull a prank every century or so. Their guest would then say it was his Silvaness coming out. His even more Silvan sister and friends who visited their valley far less often had played just as many pranks in it. What did Estel's nurse have in mind for him?

Erestor began cautiously opening every drawer, test-tasting everything he ate and drank, and taking other like precautions. Mellolaes saw him so little she never noticed him doing such things. Some of the servants did see and guessed. They found it funny enough to laugh at when neither nurse nor steward would overhear. The Balrog Slayer laughed loudest. He had no intention of enlightening his fellow Noldo to the true reason for the Silvan's change in attitude toward him. Elrond barely noticed any of this. His mind was on other things.

One day his mind was taken to another place entirely.

He sat at his desk staring at papers. Somehow, straightening little matters could distract from greater ones, which could not be straightened. Or so he thought.

In a moment, he saw other than what lay before his eyes. Sunlight fell upon grass tufts and trees growing from a mountainside emerald against the grey stone. A path wound up the mountain. Red drops were splattered in its dust. Their trail seemed to end at a cave entrance. Then he saw into the cave and realized the drops continued. They finally ceased at a lean, bowed back with a dark braid hanging down it. A hand, glowing softly, clutched another exactly like it save the latter was greyer in color. To the left of this a face nearly as grey was turned to his view. Slack in unconsciousness it faced him, well-known and well-loved.

Suddenly, Elrond's own room returned to his view. He was standing and gasping, even sweating. His heart pumped fast for an ellon. He knew what he had seen. He knew what he must do. May the Valar be merciful.

 **If you liked something please tell me, if not you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	8. Chapter 8

**I neither created, nor own Middle Earth, Imladris, the Misty Mountains, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor, Estel/Aragorn, Lindir, nor Glorfindel. Tolkien did, and I am eternally grateful. I did create Mellolaes, Cuilbron, Altithen, Glilenn, Idhrenohtar, and Rochellon, however.**

 **This piece is for entertainment purposes only. So please read and be entertained.**

 **Hey guys, I know I took a little longer than usual to post this one. Once you notice it's length ,I hope you'll forgive me and still have time to read it.**

Mellolaes trotted her wooden horse with the Elladan figurine atop it across the floor and toward the clay troll. "Meet my blade foul fiend!"

"I'll get him with mine first!" Estel swept the wooden horse with the Elrohir figurine at the troll.

Mellolaes smiled. Then she frowned and turned. As she did, Lord Elrond appeared in the doorway. He made no sound, but the notes Mellolaes felt piercing her soul in the Song screamed from his eyes. When he did speak, his tone of voice was mild and even.

"Mellolaes. I would like a word alone with my son. And I need you to inform Erestor, Lindir, Cuilbron, Glorfindel, Idhrenohtar, and Rochellon I must see them in my office as soon as they can arrive there. Send Glilenn to watch Estel as well. For, I also have need of your presence during that meeting."

Mellolaes kept his gaze as he spoke and when she gave her wavering reply. "Alriiight."

She rose to her feet and then remembered to glance at Estel. The merriment in his face was gone. He was pale, wide-eyed, and pursed-lipped. Mellolaes reached out and brushed back his hair. Her voice was a coo. "I'll be back soon, Estel. Feel no alarm."

"Okay." His eyes pleaded with her almost like his ada's did. Mellolaes turned from him with difficulty and strode stiffly toward the door. Elrond stepped inside and then out of her path. He closed the door behind her and walked to Estel. He knelt down beside the boy and spoke in low, soft words.

. . .

Mellolaes hurried down the steps lifting her skirt with her hands. Now was not the time to trip. At the bottom of the stairs, she poked her head into Erestor's office. The steward was bent over his desk. Mellolaes' voice shattered the stillness there. "Erestor. Elrond needs to see you. Now!"

Erestor's body twisted to face her. He frowned. "I was not aware of anything scheduled." He then sat straighter and pierced the elleth with his gaze. "This is not the first step in a greater scheme of yours is it, Mellolaes?"

The elleth scowled. Her hands became fists at her sides. Her face flushed red. She stomped. "I have no time for this Erestor! I need to gather Glorfindel, Glilenn, Cuilbron, Idhrenohtar, Rochellon, and Lindir as well! Lord Elrond needs us!"

She turned from the door and headed for the main entrance to the house itself. Erestor raised his eyebrows and followed her. As long as he didn't go "up" the stairs toward his lord's office, he should not fall into any trap. If the elleth did as she said, though, her story might have merit.

She did indeed call out for the head door-elf. "Lindir! Lindir!"

The ellon stepped inside and blinked. "Yes, Melloleas? Have you or Estel need of me?"

The elleth paused before him and spoke as if unaware not one, but two ellon watched her. (Being Silvan though, she couldn't possibly be so unaware.) Erestor found himself ignored and it impressed him. He listened carefully to the Silvan's words. "Lord Elrond asked you, Erestor, Glorfindel, Glilenn, Cuilbron, and Idrenohtar, be gathered. I must be there too, since Glilenn is coming to watch Estel."

When Mellolaes said, "I must be there too" Lindir's eyes widened and skin greyed. When she continued, "Glilenn is coming to watch Estel" Lindir's eyes shut, and he raised his face to the ceiling before giving a sigh of relief. Mellolaes leaned back and scowled at this. The door-greeter did not seem to notice. Keeping his eyes shut he nodded. "I will be there." He opened his eyes and met her gaze. He raised an eyebrow at her scowl. "I can gather the others up. Are you sure you wish to do so?"

Mellolaes raised a hand and shook her head. "No. I think Elrond needs more time with Estel. And he asked 'me'."

Mellolaes turned, picked her skirts up again, and sprinted to the kitchen. Erestor stepped up to Lindir's side to watch. The Steward's gaze was unblinking and intense. "She … does not shirk her duty, does she?"

Lindir shrugged. "She does not seem to."

Erestor turned toward the stairs. "Well, let us be going together then." Even if this did turn out to be a trick. It would be less humiliating falling into it with Lindir.

. . .

Mellolaes rushed into the kitchen. Glilenn and Alphtithen were within. The latter's eyes widened and hands went to her mouth at the sight of Mellolaes. The Silvan herself met the head cook's gaze. "Glilenn. Erestor wants you to watch Estel while I attend a meeting with him and others I must gather."

The cook sighed her form deflating. Then she nodded. "Well, I've raised a few elflings and will be careful not to overfeed the manling this time." With that, Glilenn squared her shoulders and began walking toward her new charge.

Mellolaes began rushing past, but her arm was grabbed by the hand of Alphtithen. "Mellolaes is something wrong?" The Silvan turned and met the gaze of the Noldo and Sindar elleth. "I know no details, just my orders."

Glilenn paused in her own strides to glance back at that. Then she looked forward again, shook her head, and continued. Mellolaes had already been released by Alphtithen and was running into the Healing Ward. "Cuilbron!"

The head healer and one of his assistants looked up from shining their surgery tools. Mellolaes slid to a stand an arm-length from his side. Then she looked into his squinting eyes. "Lord Elrond asks you to meet him in his office immediately."

Then, without waiting for a reply or seeing the head healer's raised eyebrows, Mellolaes shot off again. Next would be her longest run yet. She must find Glorfindel, who would most certainly be at the training yards this time on this day.

. . .

Glorfindel cocked his arm back and then threw. The spear shone in the mid-morning sun as it flew. His missile landed in the center of a target one-hundred paces away. The dark ellon behind him nodded. "A fine throw, Captain."

He also cocked his arm back, but froze at the sound of a cry coming from the bottom of the hill. "Captain Glorfindel! Captain Glorfindel!"

The Noldo with his spear in the air turned and scowled. He growled in Quenyan. "What does 'she' want here with you?"

Glorfindel turned a scowl of his own upon the other soldier. He gentled his gaze for Mellolaes when she appeared before him and sucked in a breath. "Captain Glorfindel, Lord Elrond wants to see you." She looked to the other ellon. "You too Idhrenohtar."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, but the other ellon spoke first. His voice was chill, but fluid. "Does he indeed?"

Mellolaes scowled at him. "Yes. He does Idhrenohtar. You can disbelieve me if you wish, but it will be your own lord you disappoint."

Glorfindel nodded, bent down, and picked up his sword belt before strapping it around his waist. "I believe you Mellolaes. Are we the last ellon you need to gather for this meeting?"

Mellolaes shook her head. "No. I am to gather Rochellon as well."

Glorfindel nodded. "Then go and get Rochellon."

He turned a scowl upon the ellon behind him. "I am sure you shall have no trouble with that."

The other raised an eyebrow, but did and said nothing else. Mellolaes turned toward the barns and ran to them. The horses raised their heads at her rushed approach, but did not shy.

Idhrenohtar sighed and followed. He had no idea if Glorfindel had meant only for him to do no harm to the elleth, or to aid her. Just in case, he followed her to see no other somehow interfered in her task. Sometimes, he regretted speaking aloud the words he had that day, and within the hearing of so many. He did not deny the strain of being near the kin of those he hated every day. However, he was elven, and a Noldo born under the light of the trees. He would endure. He would restrain himself.

He followed several paces behind the elleth. This was not hard. Though his strides were long, she ran before him. It must have seemed as if he was hunting her. Idhrenohtar almost feared another who had not overheard their conversation seeing them thus.

. . .

Mellolaes rushed through the doors and sprinted to Rochellon's side. The head of the stables spun to face her in surprise. The elleth grabbed his arm and gripped it tight. "Rochellon. Elrond needs to see you."

The ellon's eyebrows rose at her tone and the appearance of her eyes. Then he gave a nod and turned away from the task of brushing a horse with a pat on its rump. The beast snorted and stomped a hoof at being abandoned. Untethered, he turned and went out the open doors of the backway and into the paddock.

Mellolaes walked by Rochellon's side toward the main houses. Seeing her task completed and another escorting her, Idhrenohtar turned from where he had stood watching in the doorway and went before them into to the main house.

. . .

Mellolaes had first peeked into Estel's room and found it empty. Her heart sank a little even as she reassured herself Glilenn must have taken him somewhere and was doing something fun with him. The Silvan swallowed as she turned back and continued walking with Rochellon to Lord Elrond's office. The door was open. The room inside was crowded, but silent save for the sounds of breathing. They slipped inside.

The decorations of Glorfindel's clothing and sheath chimed softly as he turned to watch them enter. Idhrenohtar had arrived before them and taken his place at his Captain's side. Erestor stood at the Lord of the Golden Flower's other side. Beside him was Cuilbron. Lindir stood nearest the exit, a door elf at all times. He shut the door behind her and the head stable-elf.

Mellolaes tucked her chin in and folded her hands in front of her. Then she turned her stare upon Elrond as Rochellon had. Lindir stood behind them and beside the door to let everyone out when the meeting was finished, or sooner.

Elrond, whom everyone was staring at, stared at no one. His eyes focused on a stack of papers atop his desk. No one believed he studied them. Finally, his voice came forth soft and low. "I saw my sons."

Mellolaes' bowed head jerked up. Rochellon straightened beside her. Erestor raised his eyebrows. Glorfindel and Idhrenohtar clenched their jaws. Cuilbron's brows furrowed. Lindir stiffened and thus stood straighter. No one else spoke.

Elrond continued. "I know not if what I saw has occurred, or will soon occur, happened as I saw it, or will even happen far in the future. I saw neither dead, but one wounded as the other cared for him. I cannot let this pass without knowing how they fair, soon. I will go to them." Elrond raised his gaze to meet Glorfindel's. "You will escort me on my journey to them, and perhaps home with them I believe."

Glorfindel nodded. Soft chiming sounded again. Elrond turned his gaze to Idhrenohtar. "You will be left in charge of the security of the Hidden Valley."

Idhrenohtar nodded his response as well. His jaw grew slightly tighter. Elrond spoke again to them both. "Go both of you. Glorfindel get your own gear gathered and ready, meet me in the stone circle. Idhrenohtar, gather and ready my gear and then meet me in the same place."

Both warriors nodded, bowed, and left. The music of Glorfindel's clothing followed him. Lindir had the door open for them to stride through, though, he stared ahead at nothing with a lax face. Yet, he shut the portal swiftly behind their departing figures. Elrond looked next to Cuilbron. The elf closed his eyes and gave a slight bow speaking before being spoken too. "I shall assemble a warrior's healing-kit with extra of every item?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes." His head healer was out the door. Lindir had already opened it. Then, he shut it behind the third to leave.

Elrond turned to Rochellon. The elf gave a slight nod and spoke first with a warmer voice than the rest. "I will prepare your and Glorfindel's mounts from the journey now, my lord."

A little tension left Elrond's expression. He nodded slowly. Moisture appeared in his eyes. Lindir opened the door for a fluid moving stable-elf and closed it behind him. He himself jumped as Elrond addressed him next.

"Lindir." The door-elf spun around to meet the gaze of his master. Elrond continued. "You will, as always, be left in charge of the door. Until I return I will neither be here to greet guests nor keep them company. Do so as well as you always do in the meantime. If they have business, merely take the short walk to the door of Erestor's office."

Erestor smothered a sigh as Lindir nodded. The door-elf then continued to stand in his place. After a raised eyebrow from his lord, however, the servant let himself out.

Elrond turned a suddenly narrowed, piercing, and hardened gaze to the only two still in the room with him. "I am leaving you both with the gravest task of all, watching over Estel. And I have no two more ill-prepared servants for working together on such a project. Were this not possibly an emergency I might not even 'think' about doing it."

Mellolaes broke in. "We will do it well, my lord."

Both ellon raised their eyebrows at the elleth. Mellolaes continued, her voice shaking slightly, but she added a firm nod. "I won't give trouble. I will follow Erestor's every order properly if I have too."

The last bit of the last line sounded more like her. Erestor rolled his eyes at it. Elrond gave a soft, sad smile the first she'd seen from him that day. "Thank you Mellolaes. I sent Estel and Glilenn to prepare bags of provisions for myself, Glorfindel, and my sons if they must return with us. Please go help with that task and bring Estel to the stone circle with the bags after you are through packing them."

Melolaes jerked a head nod and raced out the door opening and shutting it herself. Elrond's scowl returned doubly as he turned it upon the final servant still with him. Erestor raised his eyebrows at the sight of it. "My lord?"

"I know you started the last altercation though she finished it. Your attitude is obvious to all including her. Fix it. I care not how. I care not the reason for this attitude toward her either. I'm leaving the physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being of my child in your hands along with hers and the good of all my servants, entire house, and any guests. Do not fail me. Do not fail him, her, or any taking or who will take refuge here. Be kind, not dismissive toward them. He is my son, she is my guest, they are our people and guests. Do for them as I would."

Erestor took a deep breath, loosed it slowly and let his eyebrows fall back to their usual place almost as slowly before nodding. "I shall, my lord."

Elrond nodded back in return. "Good."

He then rose and began to stride from the room himself. Erestor, however, remained standing in the room some moments after the door shut behind his lord.

. . .

Mellolaes ran to the kitchen and indeed found Estel "helping" Glilenn. They were both deep in the effort to pack enough food for his ada, Gorfindel, and brothers as well on a journey to the Misty Mountains and back.

Sadly, Estel could not reach the places the food was stored. Glilenn held him up to get things she could have gotten without help. Then she had to pause and give detailed instruction to him on how to pack it. The cook's voice was low and calm, but her brow was slightly furrowed.

Estel, however, was smiling. Mellolaes' own brow furrowed in confusion. Estel looked up, saw her and shouted. "Hi Melly. My brothers are in trouble, but Ada and Glorfindel are going to go and save them! Then they'll bring them back! They'll have to stay awhile after that! Won't that be great?!"

Glilenn gave Mellolaes a "look" over her charge's head. Mellolaes smiled back and broke into a laugh that cracked in a few places, but still felt and sounded sweet. "Yes, Estel. That sounds wondrous."

She began to stride over to the boy, but looked up and spoke to Glilenn. "Since you know this place best, why do you not gather the food while Estel and I pack it? I've been packing traveling meals for my brother and father for years. And Estel is always a good helper."

Glilenn set Estel down in a chair. The furrow of her brow smoothed as she smiled. The elleth-cook then moved through the kitchen like a winding river barely pausing anywhere at all. Food appeared on the table. It disappeared a little slower as Mellolaes packed it while showing and explaining to Estel why she did as she did and how to pack it in the bags himself. Estel followed her example, still smiling.

. . .

Lindir had blown a silver horn and every elf in the household of Elrond had gathered in the stone circle. Twas right before the steps into the house's main entrance. On the circle's other side was the beginning of the main road from the valley.

Soldiers, healers, housekeepers, cooks, grooms, and more stood shoulder to shoulder eyes locked upon their Lord sitting atop his black horse. The latter stood beside a great white beast carrying Glorfindel. He had hugged Estel before mounting it. Both ellon were dressed in armor reflecting the sun almost like mirrors. Sword sheaths were strapped to their rights sides. Knives were strapped to their left sides. Quivers of arrows rested on their backs. And bows rested across their laps.

Nearest to them stood Erestor, Idhrenohtar, Lindir, and Mellolaes, who, with Estel's help, had handed up bags of food to the warriors. After they packed these upon their horses, Elrond looked out and addressed the gathered crowd. "I have received information leading me to believe my sons, who left less than a month ago, may gravely require my assistance. Therefore, I am going after them with Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower and Balrog Slayer escorting me."

Glorfindel's own grave expression twisted slightly at the sound of his title, whether it was in discomfort or amusement was hard to tell. The expression disappeared quickly. If Elrond noticed it, he gave no sign. "I am leaving the safety of this valley in the hands of our many and capable soldiers who will be led by Idhrenohtar in Glorfindel's absence!"

The tall, dark ellon bowed in acknowledgement, his face expressionless. So caught up in their lord's grave tone and expression were the people, they did not look away from his face to see this. Elrond went on. "I am leaving Cuilbron in charge of the Healing Ward."

Cuilbron placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head. No one turned their gaze from Lord Elrond to watch. He continued. "I am leaving the keeping of the oversight of the house and valley's running to my steward, Erestor."

Erestor bowed. A few servants glanced at him and then back to their lord. Elrond finished with a slight sigh in his voice. "Obey them as you would Glorfindel and me. May the Vallar and Iluvatar Himself bear witness to my trust in all of you and guide and guard our ways as we now part. May they bring us back together again, soon and better even than when we parted."

A cheer went up from the crowd. The most cheerful voice in it was Estel himself. Elrond nudged his steed forward a step. Mellolaes lifted his youngest child toward the Lord of Imladris. The ellon took him from her and held the manling a moment. Estel snuggled happily into his ada's chest. A silver tear left a dark eye and ran into dark, curly hair. "You be good for Erestor and Mellolaes, ionneg."

"I will, Ada. Bring Elhir and Eldan back soon."

Elrond smiled sadly. "I shall endeavor to do my best."

"You and Glorfdel will make whoever troubled them sorry!"

Elrond gave a broken laugh. Glorfindel flashed a grin. Mellolaes gave a wavering smile. Then she raised empty hands. Lord Elrond filled them with Estel. The elleth drew the child back to her. Elrond let his gaze linger on his youngest a few more seconds before backing his mount away and turning to the crowd of his people again. He lifted a hand in farewell.

"Vallar and Iluvatar keep you all!"

"And may they also keep you," the crowd shouted in unison.

Then Glorfindel turned his white steed as Elrond turned his black. The two mounts raced down the paved street. Unlike with the twins though, they were not racing each other. They raced time itself.

Members of the crowd began to turn and move away murmuring low to each other. Mellolaes, Estel, and Elrond however stayed and continued to gaze after the departing figures. Mellolaes' face was mostly lax, with a slight furrow of her brow. Erestor's eyes were narrowed and jaw set. Estel was giving his biggest grin and spoke with relish in his voice. "They'll get them! Ada and Glorfdel will chase all the trolls and orcs away, and bring my brothers back!"

Mellolaes and Erestor turned their gazes upon Estel's head in unison and then looked up to gaze at each other. For once, both had the same thought in their minds at the same time. _What now?_

 **If you liked something please tell me, if not you can tell me that too. :)**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	9. Chapter 9

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Imladris, The Silvan or Noldo elves, Elrond, Erestor, Estel/Aragorn, Lindir, nor Glorfindel. Tolkien did, and I am eternally grateful. I did create Mellolaes and Idhrenohtar, however.**

 **This piece is for entertainment purposes only. So please read and be entertained.**

"I suppose you think it is better for you now that I have been left in charge instead of Elrond."

Idhrenohtar raised an eyebrow from where he sat before the Steward's desk. "Why should I prefer it either way?"

"You know how our lord feels about Silvans, and you know how 'I' feel about Silvans."

Idhrenohtar shrugged. "I know you will follow our lord's orders while he is away, same as I."

Erestor leaned forward, folded his arms upon his desk, and pierced the other Noldo with his gaze. His brows lowered in a dark V dividing his forehead. "Not only that, but I will defend and avenge her with all vehemence if anything happens, Idhrenohtar. If even the slightest thing happens to her in your presence, I will learn of it, and you will not escape punishment beneath my oversight."

Idrenohtar raised one brow slightly. "I will not harm one of Elrond's guests in his own valley and thus open our Lord up to suspicion and derision from any, especially the Silvans."

"And if anything happens to her 'outside' this valley, I will call thee to account for that too Idrenohtar, just like our lord."

"I never said I would harm her there either."

"See that you do not." Erestor then looked to the papers on his desk. "You may leave now."

Idhrenohtar rose and walked to the door. As the soldier reached for the doorknob, he paused and turned his gaze back to the steward. "For the record, it is truly her brother, father, and their fellow Silvan warriors who fought in the last war I have a quarrel with, not her."

Erestor nodded without looking up. "Good."

Idrenohtar straightened, raised an eyebrow, and turned back a degree more. "May I ask what the nature of 'your' quarrel with her is?"

Erestor raised his gaze to meet the other ellon's. "What do you mean?"

The soldier shrugged. "Everyone knows it. You are either hard upon or avoid her like she smells. What does she matter to you, even her Silvaness? You lost neither kin nor friend in 'that' battle."

Erestor's eyes burned as he stared into the soldier's. His fingers drummed once upon the surface of his desk. Then he tilted his head toward the door. "Get out, Idrenohtar."

The soldier turned, opened the door and stepped out closing it behind him. Erestor leaned down, rubbed his face with his hands, and then held his head in them.

. . .

Leagues away, a figure in a grey cloak left a house near the center of a farm. A donkey, cow, and scattered poultry looked up at his exit, but he had tended their needs for the last time. He bent his head, winced at the sunlight, and stepped out into it anyway. He did pull his hood well down and squinted his eyes nearly closed.

The man strode toward the one animal who hadn't looked up at his appearance. The horse continued to graze even as his master swung up upon his back. The rider did not bother to saddle his beast. The discomfort of riding bareback might keep him alert during the journey.

The steed ceased grazing when the man clucked to him. The horse then turned and ambled onto the road. The man sat a little taller and looked out calculating distance in his mind, making a check over the sensations in his body. He had cut it close.

The woman, children, and even man he'd left inside were well on their way to regaining their strength. He though, was well on his way to having a fever. He knew the best place to come down with a fever in Middle Earth ... if only he could reach it in time.

The woman, once so worried about him being in her house at all, who might have chased him off at his first appearance if she'd been able to lift her broom, had tried hard to convince him to stay. She was just firmly on the mend herself, though. Her children even less so. Her husband was not yet out of bed. He had assured her he had friends, learned, wise, gentle friends, very near to go to if he truly became ill. He would reach them long before there was any danger.

The man clucked again. His horse quickened his pace to a fast trot. The rider leaned over and cleared the tickle in his throat. His gaze pierced the horizon focused on his unseen goal. He hoped he had told her the truth.

. . .

"Erestor, Erestor!"

The ellon turned from his office door. Manling and Silvan had gone out to the steps of the main entrance earlier with pads of papers and sticks of charcoal. The manling now rushed him. Grey smudges and a large grin decorated his small face.

The boy carried a paper in his hands. When, he stopped at the ellon's feet, he lifted his work. "Look at this! I drew it!"

Erestor took the paper and looked. He was then glad he held the page in such a way as to hide his face from the artist. Estel's voice came from behind his masterpiece. "See, what it is?!"

Erestor schooled his voice before he replied. "Well … I see its something very … jagged-lined."

"Uh-huh."

Erestor glanced down at Estel. The boy grinned up still and stiff with sparkles in his eyes. Erestor looked back to the paper. "And the jagged lines seem … dark."

"Uh-huh."

Erestor pursed his lips together harder. Then a voice came from down the hall. "Have you showed Erestor your picture of the mountains around the great gate, yet?"

Estel spun around. His grin turned into a pout. He stomped a foot. "Ahhhhh … Melly! You told."

The elleth paused before him and raised her eyebrows. "Did I?" Then she continued her approach and knelt down before the boy. "I'm sorry, Estel. Do you forgive me?"

Estel huffed. His shoulders sagged. "Okay …" He turned a grin back up to Erestor. "Do you want to keep it? Melly says you love to draw!"

Erestor stiffened. From the main doorway, Lindir turned his head and stared. Melly froze, bit her lip, and looked up at the steward herself.

The Noldo's brows drew slightly together, but his voice came out low and soft. He held the drawing back out to the boy. "Estel, why don't you go show your exquisite piece of art to Lindir. He is, after all, quite fond of the arts."

Lindir's eyes widened as his face turned grey. He froze as the manling jogged up to him. Mellolaes rose from the floor and began to walk after her charge. Erestor's tone stopped her. "Will you please accompany me into my office?"

The Silvan swallowed, turned, and followed the ellon. Erestor stepped aside, waited for her to pass, and shut the door. Then he walked behind his desk, turned, sat down, and steepled his fingers before resting his chin upon them. "Where did you hear I loved to draw?"

Mellolaes looked down to the floor, clasped her hands before her, and shrugged. "From someone who knew?"

Erestor raised an eyebrow. Then he leaned back into his chair and stared at the elf-maid. After a moment, his eyes widened slightly and then narrowed as his voice came forth with a growl. "Glorfindel …"

Mellolaes' mouth twisted. Erestor's scowl deepened. "How much did he tell you?"

Mellolaes lifted her long eyelashes to look back at him from beneath them. She shrugged. "Just … some things … like, your fondness for drawing."

"I have drawn nothing but diagrams since the second age."

"Oh …"

"What else did he tell you?"

Mellolaes shrugged again. "Just ... that ... you were the youngest in your family."

"And?"

"And ... you aren't a kin-killer."

"And?"

Her shoulders sagged. "And you came here following a friend … and that friend died …"

Erestor raised another eyebrow and tilted his head. "Did Glorfindel tell you the manner of that death?"

"He said he was pulled from his horse by orcs."

Erestor leaned back in his chair. His face going lax. He drew his steepled fingers toward himself. A knock sounded from the door. Erestor looked to it. Mellolaes turned toward it as well. A voice came piping through the wood. "Erestor, Melly, I've finished telling Lindir about my drawing."

Mellolaes looked to the Steward. He nodded. "Let him in, but …"

Mellolaes had been reaching for the doorknob, she turned back to meet Erestor's gaze. He continued when she did. "Do not tell anyone else I like to draw, or about my friend's death. Especially Estel."

The elleth nodded. Then she turned back and opened the door.

Estel rushed in holding his drawing over his head. The paper bent back in the breeze he created. The boy stopped before Erestor's knees. "Do you still want it?"

Erestor pulled the manling up into his lap, took the paper, and stared at with a serious gaze. Mellolaes stood by the door, hands folded before her again. Finally, the ellon handed the paper back to Estel. "I think your first such great work should go in your adar's office. Otherwise, I would be honored to have it."

Estel grinned. "Alright, for ada. When he gets back!"

Erestor nodded, but added, "Why don't you hang or prop it up in his office now so he can see it there the day he returns?"

Estel nodded again. "That's a great idea, Erestor!" He flung himself forward, gripped the neck of the elf in a skin-changer hug, and then snatched the paper back before bouncing down. Once on the floor he strode toward the door. "Come on, Melly! Let's go hang this up in ada's office!"

Mellolaes stepped after her charge, closing the door behind her. She smiled and winked over her shoulder at the steward while she did. He raised an eyebrow, but did nothing else at this.

. . .

Lindir sighed in relief as the excited voice of the child faded away from the top of the stairs. The child was certainly not "bad," but there was always the possibility he would do or say something wrong to make the manling cry, or shout, or worst of all accidentally hurt himself. Then, not only his lord, but his sons, the steward, "and" the head of Imladris' guard would be angry with him. Then there was the child's nurse herself. Who knew what "she" would do? The elleth was a Silvan. No one could predict them.

Lindir sighed again. Then a trumpet blast sounded through the air, long, bright, and expectant. The door-ellon straightened, looked in the direction of the gate, and frowned. Someone approached the valley, someone coming like he knew where he was going, someone who was not one of their own people, let alone their lord, his sons, or Captain Glorfindel. The length of the trumpet-note told Lindir whoever approached would not be there for some time, but Lindir began to stride inside anyway. He hammered upon the office door near the bottom on the stairs. "Steward Erestor! Steward Erestor!"

Soon the head of the servants himself opened the door with a slight scowl. Lindir gave a swift step back and a bow. "Forgive me, my steward, but someone is approaching the valley. Apparently seeking lodging or refuge. The blast indicating so was just sounded by the watcher upon the gate."

Erestor froze and raised both his brows.

 **If you liked something please tell me. If not, tell me how I can do better.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	10. Chapter 10

**I neither created, nor own Middle Earth, Imladris, Mirkwood, Elrond, Erestor, Estel/Aragorn, Lindir, nor Glorfindel. Tolkien did, and I am eternally grateful. I did create Mellolaes, Cuilbron, and Idhrenohtar, however.**

 **This piece is for entertainment purposes only. So please read and be entertained.**

Erestor accompanied Lindir back to the main entrance and listened. Moments of Imladris' natural music passed: bird songs, fountains and waterfalls trickling and rushing, droplets dripping from leaves, the breeze rippling through long grass, bushes, and trees as it passed. Then another trumpet blast filled the air. This one sounded different from the first.

Erestor nodded as if he had been expecting it. "It is an Edain."

Lindir sighed. "One of our Lord's people visits us while our Lord is away."

Elrond turned toward the doorkeeper with one eyebrow raised. "As our greeter for any guest, you should learn not to say such things." Lindir turned widened eyes upon the steward. Erestor had looked back toward the gate. His voice deepened. "Apparently even for us fair folk letting secrets slip is all too easy."

Lindir's eyes widened still more before he turned back toward the gate himself. "'I' at least shall share no secret of any other with a guest of my lord, nor even with a fellow servant. Tis not my place."

"Yes, indeed. You are 'usually' a fine servant in knowing your every duty Lindir. If only you were not also so terrified of manlings."

The doorkeeper opened his mouth, but another trumpet blast sounded through the air. Erestor sighed. "The man is hurt or ill."

Lindir straightened. His face grew grave. "Idhrenhotar should be back at the gate by now. They will likely send him forth to fetch the man."

Erestor sighed. "He will be brought to us by the back way behind the Healing Ward then. Come. I will go and see the place made ready for him. You, though, have to greet him alone."

Lindir turned to stare after the steward. "'I' alone?"

Erestor looked back to the other ellon with a set jaw. "If he has any sort of plague, I cannot stand in his presence and then serve in 'other' ways."

A light of understanding lit Lindir's eyes and face. Erestor continued. "Just think. This may be another opportunity for you to avoid serving in ways you have no liking for."

Lindir hurried after Erestor.

. . .

Idhrenotar rode a black horse across the low hills covered in high grass. Up, down, up, down, rise, dip, rise, dip, not only the earth, but his own gaze followed this established pattern. He must guide his mount safely over this rock-scattered terrain, but also keep the still distant figure straight ahead of them.

The shape was bowed, but whether the body crouched in around a wound in its chest or gut, or only found a delirious mind to heavy to lift was yet uncertain. Idhrenohtar continued to draw closer. Then he lifted his face to the wind and sniffed. His eyebrows rose. Ah.

He drew up to the man's side, recognizing him now. "Edain."

The ranger raised his head and gave a weary grin. "Come to escort me, Idhrenotar?"

"More like carry thee, mortal."

Idhrenohtar reached out and dragged the man from his mount and onto his. The man's steed stood still for this. Idhrenohtar's began to stamp. The ellon chided his mount for such unwillingness to serve. Then he completed the task of heaving the heavy man up before him. The Noldo wrapped both arms around the mortal's, thankfully unwounded, middle. Then he used the pressure of his legs to tell the stallion beneath them he could run for home.

The great beast did so will a conflicted spirit. He was unhappy to be carrying not only one other than his chosen master, but another who weighed so very much. Yet, he was happy to be going home to get said weight off his back as soon as possible.

The man's usual mount trotted happily bare-backed after them. His master was in better hands now, and they were off to a wondrous place. The horse nickered in expectation of seeing the Hidden Valley again. He'd been there before and had never forgotten its waters, grass, and grooms.

Idhrenotar spoke in the man's ear. "Summer fever?"

"Farmer's family … not far away."

The ellon nodded. "Ah yes, we know of them. Very near, yet they never wander our way. Good neighbors."

The man chuckled. Then He tried to turn his head to look back over his shoulder. 'Where is Glorfindel? I thought it would be him who came for me."

"You think Imladris' military leader has time to lug your heavy form through our gates?"

The man raised an eyebrow but then turned back to let his "heavy form" droop farther. Idhrenotar pursed his lips. _I hope his case is not so bad and Cuilbron is more than ready for this._

. . .

"Where is Lord Elrond?"

The mortal lay on the cot in the Healing Ward staring at the one who'd introduced himself as its head healer. Cuildron gave a gentle smile and even gentler answer toward the flushed face. "I'm afraid our lord is off on a mission of his own, but fear not. We of this Healing Ward have been trained by him."

The ranger's brows drew together in concentration as he tried to make sense of this. "Then ... where is Agargol?"

"I fear he is in Mirkwood teaching some of the Healers there better surgery, poison-draining, and poison antidote mixing methods. I was his personal assistant for centuries, though. Lord Elrond had enough confidence to leave me in charge of this ward for cases such as this."

The ellon smiled down. The fevered man squinted back up. The mortal's brain was processing these bits of news at a pace similar to that a man sets while walking through ankle-deep mud. He realized Lord Elrond's "mission" had been called only that. Agarol's whereabouts, however, had been described with some detail. That meant ... something. Perhaps he could have figured it out were thinking not so tiring. What the mortal was most focused on now was the two best healers he knew of from this place were absent, and he was about to be very ill here, very ill.

Still, they were elves trained by Elrond. Cuilbron performed as well as his word. The ranger was tucked into light, soft, sweet-smelling sheets. Cauldrons of athelas, other herbs, and water went over fires and boiled. The resulting steam filled the room with the scent of health. This even cleared the patient's mind a bit. Then there was the music. Someone always seemed to be singing within his hearing. The melodies were soothing and sweet as the water he received or wild and bright as the lands he loved and missed. He was never left alone, and they always knew when he needed a drink without him saying so.

Still, it was not pleasant. There came days his thoughts did not trudge through mud, but seemed to swim through soup. Incomprehensible dreams he could not always recall afterwards were his hourly companions during such times. Then there was sleep in some of the deepest blackness and silence the living know of. Other times, he heard all going around him, but did not care enough to interject anything. Even when he dared open his eyes, he didn't open his mouth. His throat was too sore for that. Still they tended to him, gave him water, gave him broth, gave him tea. He kept nine out of ten sips down even when his stomach was at its most upset. Yes, he'd come to a good place to be ill.

The best part though, which made his mind most easy, was no one else was endangered by his presence here. Neither elves, nor even dwarves could catch summer-fever. It was strictly a plague of men. The trail of illness he'd become a part of by tending those on the farm would end with him.

On his last day there, because he had to get home and let his people know he still lived, the man ate not only solid food, but nearly a whole meal. He started with fruit. Then he once more drank a bowl of soup, but afterwards moved on to a salad. He even devoured two slices of bread with cream and jam. He finished his meal with three small tarts. He set the half of the last down with a sigh. His shrunken stomach would accept no more for now. Still, it had been one of the best meals of his life.

Idhrenohtar looked in on him. The ellon crossed his arms over his chest and giving an upward jerk of his chin. "Are you ready to depart then, mortal?"

Then man looked up and nodded. "I am now."

"Good. Your healers, nurses, and even a few kitchen servants wait to see you off outside." Idhrenohtar turned and went on ahead. The man smiled. Despite the strange lack of cordiality from this member of the elder, the ellon had pulled him from the saddle and gotten him swiftly the rest of the way, when he'd been wondering if he could even stay astride his horse. Now he and another ellon, a healer, though not Cuilbron himself, would escort him part of his way home. They said they must make sure he had truly regained enough of his strength to travel before letting him tax it alone. Yes, the people of Imladris were kind folk.

The man rose, strapped on his sword, threw on his cleaned and pressed cloak, and strode out into the sunlight. After he shut the door behind him, the one across from it opened. From the inner garden popped in a head only a little ways off the ground. Grey eyes darted in a small face looking here and there. Their master had not been let near this familiar place for weeks. He wanted to know why.

The manling tiptoed a few steps across the marble floor (easier to clean bodily fluids off of) and froze. Light let in through a window landed upon a plate. Scattered across its surface were pale crumbs and half a raspberry tart.

Raspberry tarts were Este's "favorites." He'd eaten three himself earlier, but then Erestor said he could have no more. The ellon was not there now!

Tiny feet dashed across the ward. A tiny hand snatched up the treat. The pastry was stuffed through wide-open lips. Ity-bity teeth chewed with thorough haste. A small throat swallowed.

Glancing down at his hands, the boy's eyes widened at the sight of crumbs and smears. He grabbed an already damp napkin and tried to rid his face and fingers of the evidence. He'd already turned from the plate and was glancing around the ward again, when an elleth appeared in the doorway he'd left open behind him.

Mellolaes's mouth dropped open at the sight of his back. Her hands went to her hips. "Estel!"

The manling spun around. Grey eyes enlarged. "Melly!"

The Silvan crossed her arms over her chest. "Come out here. Now."

The manling dragged his feet. His head hung. His hands clasped each other behind his back. The elleth scowled at him his whole journey to the patch of grass before her feet. "What have I told you about coming here?"

"That I shouldn't." Estel raised watery eyes. "But why Melly? I've seen you staring over here and heard you singing toward it. You looked sad. Why were you sad? I thought maybe someone was in trouble. I wanted to see."

The elleth's gaze softened. "No one is in trouble here now, Estel." Her eyes flashed hard again, and she raised a thin eyebrow. "Except you."

The manling bit his bottom lip. The Silvan held out her hand to him. "Come. Let's go elsewhere and discuss what your punishment should be."

Estel slumped. His hands let go of each other. One reached forward and took hers. "Okaaay ..."

The elf and mortal walked away leaving an innocent looking empty plate and damp napkin behind them for the servants to clean up.

 **If you liked something please tell me. If you didn't like something here, you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	11. Chapter 11

**I did not create Middle Earth, Imladris, Greenwood the Great, The Isle of Numenor, Lord Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, Erestor, or Noldo, Sindar, or Silvan elves. Tolkien did, and I am grateful to him for it. I did, however, create Mellolaes and Cuilbron.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

Mellolaes was dozing restlessly in her own room when she heard the cry. She jerked upright. Her wide eyes stared like a cat's. Her mouth opened slightly. The room was still other than the sounds across the hallway. "Melly … Melly … MELLY!"

Mellolaes shot from her bed. She whizzed into the room across from hers and fell to her knees by the bed there. "Estel?"

The boy was curled into a ball. He tossed. His locks were darker than usual, wet, and plastered to his head. "It hurts."

Mellolaes brushed a little hair back. Heat washed through her fingers. "Your belly?"

He nodded. "And head. And … And everything!"

Mellolaes had laid her hand on his forehead. A glow washed over the boy's brow. His whimpering quieted and writhing stilled.

Erestor appeared in the doorway. His robe, eyes, and expression were black. His words were iron. "What is wrong with him?"

Mellolaes turned. Estel whimpered at the hard voice from his friend. The elleth's eyes snapped. She spoke in Noldo rather than Sindarin, which was difficult. There was no word for "fever," so she put together "skin" and "great-heat."

Erestor's eyes widened. He stepped into the room. His brows drew together. He responded in the tone he'd used before, but with the language she had spoken. The syllables sounded strange in such a tone. "How did you let this happen?!"

Mellolaes scooped the boy up. She placed his face in the nook of her neck and shoulder. Estel buried it there gladly. Her skin felt cool compared to his.

The elleth scowled up at the ellon, but her words were soft, almost sweet, like honey and snow. "Instead of asking about the past, spend the present getting water and call for more help."

There was no need for the latter, though. While Erestor was still striding to a full pitcher sitting in an otherwise empty basin, Cuilbron entered the room. Three assistants followed behind him. All stared wide-eyed and shook their heads.

Then they approached and began asking either the boy or his nurse questions. Erestor yanked open a drawer. He snatched a folded cloth and threw it into the basin before striding to the bedside with it and the pitcher. He poured water first into the basin. Then he filled a glass sitting on the table.

Mellolaes grasped the then soaked cloth and placed it over the boy's head. He shivered against her a moment before slumping with a sigh of relief. Even as Mellolaes was giving him the, somewhat sharp, direction, Cuilbron reached out and held the cloth upon the boy's head. Then she reached for the glass. But Erestor was already reaching for the boy's chin with the container in his other hand.

The elleth sighed. She turned so the ellon could place the rim to the boy's lips. She stiffened as the steward repeated his earlier question. "How did you let this happen, Silvan?"

Mellolaes flushed. Green eyes flashed like daggers. The assistants she had turned toward backed away a little. Cuilbron glanced between her and the Noldo. Estel himself only blinked and gulped.

The elleth slowly drew in a deep breath. Her chest swelled. She held the air in before letting it go so slowly and steadily, her charge was not only undisturbed, but, after his drink was taken away, drifted to sleep. He dreamed he was on a nice ship like in the stories his ada read him. He stood on its deck a prince of old heading to the wondrous, enchanted Island of great men across the sea. Indeed, his eyelashes had fluttered shut and mouth turned back into the nook provided by Mellolaes' neck and shoulder when the elleth finally turned her head. Only her profile faced Erestor. She spoke in Silvan this time.

Cuilbron raised his eyebrows. He assumed she was telling her temporary overseer off, but he couldn't know for certain. Her words were strangely low and spoken through gritted teeth. He'd never learned to speak fluent Silvan himself. Sindar worked nicely enough with most of Greenwood's folk. The two tongues were so close you could usually figure out a message in one through knowledge of the other. However, since he'd never "mastered" it, as Lord Elrond put it, Agargol had gone to aid the besieged healers of this lady's homeland instead of him.

Cuilbron glanced into the steward's face. Intent eyes rested upon the elleth. He couldn't read them, but you barely ever could read the ancient Noldo's expression. The healer's own mind went back to when the elleth had approached him fourteen days before. He recalled the tale she told him then, the secret preparations she'd asked him to make, and the way they both confided their hopes the latter would prove unnecessary. He'd already ordered others to begin putting those preparations to use in the healing ward and even the kitchens. He supposed she was telling the steward of those along with other things. Twas sad their attempts to keep him unaware had gone for not. But none could expect another, let alone a Silvan, to remain silent under the accusation the steward had leveled at her.

Mellolaes fell silent, turned around, and went slack. Her hand ran up and down the manling's back gently. Cuilbron looked to Erestor again. He'd turned to the window and stared out it brow as furrowed as Cuilbron had ever seen it. The temporary head-healer's attention was caught by assistants he'd left behind entering with freshly prepared supplies. He stepped away to give them directions and almost forgot the incident that took place just before they'd entered the room.

 **If I did something you liked, please tell me. If not, you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	12. Chapter 12

**I did not create Middle Earth, Imladris, Greenwood the Great, Lord Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, Erestor, nor Noldo, Sindar, or Silvan elves. Tolkien did, and I am grateful to him for it. I did, however, create Mellolaes and Cuilbron.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

Estel sat on a marble bench warmed by the sun. He leaned over to gaze at the book Erestor held in his hands. Erestor's voice was never so animated as when he read to him. He could make his voice as deep as a dragon's or speak sweetly like a Noldo king. Estel's little fingers gripped the edge of his marble seat.

"Excuse me, my Steward?"

Erestor stilled his voice and lifted his head.

Estel's head and eyes snapped. His mouth pursed. It was worse than when ada was home and they were "disturbed" as Erestor put it. Now that ada wasn't here he and Erestor got disturbed even more than he and ada had! The elven servant didn't even glance at him as he kept speaking to Erestor.

"You wanted me to come and tell you as soon as I had gathered the best … cleaners in the household. I have. Also, the other matter is nearly seen to. In fact, it should be finished within mere moments."

Erestor nodded. "Good." He rose and put the book down upon the bench. Then he turned to Estel. "I will finish the chapter tonight, my lord's son, but for now I must go."

Estel laid back upon the bench, stretched his body out, scrunched up his eyes, and whined. "Erestor …"

The Noldo shook his head at him. "Do not give me 'that' young one. You know how to behave more maturely."

Estel lowered his gaze and puffed out a breath. "Yes, Erestor."

"Good."

While knocking the toes of his shoes together with the beat of a solemn drum, Estel overheard Erestor whisper to their "disturber."

"Find Mellolaes and send her here immediately."

After another moment, he couldn't hear them at all. Estel sat up and glanced over his shoulder. Both elves had disappeared. He turned back around and sighed again. Then he clenched his jaw.

Estel jumped down and began to walk along the garden wall. He glanced through its gate. Then he darted out. He breathed in the familiar scent of all the healing plants growing in the next garden. He stared at the low-lying building beyond them. He'd been told what seemed forever ago to stay away, but that was forever ago.

. . .

"Mmm sorry, Erestor … mmmm sorry …"

"Shhhhh …" Mellolaes kissed Estel's fevered brow. Then he felt the kiss of a cool, wet washcloth dabbing the same place. Her sweet voiced drifted into his ears making his throbbing head feel ever so much better. "Erestor has gone to see about something important Estel, but he will be back very, very soon. Besides … what have you done to be sorry for?"

"I went into the Healing Wing … He told me not to, but I did. He also wanted me to stay on the bench. I know he did … I knew it. I just didn't."

Estel stopped and swallowed. Then he winced and sobbed. Mellolaes picked up the goblet of water and held it to his lips. She waited for him to finish swallowing, then set the goblet aside, and looked back into his flushed face. Then she set a single finger against his lips. "Shhhhhhhhhh … Don't work your poor, throbbing throat so. Just speak if it's an emergency, like if one of your pains gets much, much worse. And what is done is done. Do not fret. I already kept you from playing a while that day, remember? And ... Erestor does not need to know about it."

Estel's frown deepened every so slightly. The boy winced as he tilted his head in habit. "He doesn't?"

Mellolaes bent down and kissed his hot forehead again before drawing herself back up and replying. "No, 'he doesn't'."

. . .

Erestor stared at the healing supplies and counted them again. He growled, to himself, but being in the same room Cuilbron overheard him clearly. The healer rolled his eyes at the steward's words.

"I should have prepared better than this …"

Cuilbron shrugged. "Even the plants outside used to fight this disease had mostly recovered from all the harvesting while the adan was here. Mellolaes and I had already gathered more of what we couldn't get from there. Blaming yourself will aid no one, Steward."

A voice soft, yet dark so it sent a quiver down the healer's spine spoke from behind him. "What … did you say?"

Cuilbron straightened and turned. He'd been bent over a pestle and its dish filled with leaves. His blue eyes widened.

Erestor's face had what the servants called his "scariest" expression upon it. The head healer reminded himself he was not under the Steward's authority and thus had no reason to fear him as he turned back around and began to grind the healing leaves again. "I only meant … She thought it might be wise, since there was a man with the summer fever so nearby …"

A grip like dragon's claws latched onto his arm. Cuilbron spun around to see dark eyes stabbing into him. "You meant more than that. What did that Silvan say to you? Why were you laying in supplies? And I think my admittance to a lack of preparation to treat 'two' mortals with the summer fever in the span of two months was not all you referred to earlier. What has the Silvan elleth said to you?"

Cuilbron sighed, clenched his jaw, ran his tongue over his teeth and replied slowly. "What did she say to you in Silvan the first night we spent in Estel's room?"

"That help, not blame was needed. That summer fever can spread even when extreme measures are taken to prevent it. That Estel's health matters as much to her as it does to me, and that if I want to get rid of her, I will have to wait for my lord to return and convince him to send her away. Now! What did you mean moments ago when you spoke to me, after I spoke to myself?"

Cuilbron shrugged. "That you should not blame yourself for Estel's sickness. As she told you before, blame does no good."

"And why would I blame myself for Estel's sickness? Laying in a better supply of what is used to treat the summer fever I should have done, since it is summer and this is a healing ward frequented by mortals, but what did _you_ mean?"

Cuilbron closed his eyes, bowed his head, and breathed out through slightly parted lips. "Erestor … perhaps you should just release me and let me get back to preparing this, for Estel."

"How can I let someone treat him I do not trust? You and this Silvan are in league to hide something from me! You have all, but admitted it. What is it?"

Cuilbron's gaze lifted and eyes flashed. "Alright, Steward. For your trust in us then. She wanted us to hide from you the fact that when you left Estel to give instructions to those you already knew had complete knowledge of how to sanatize a healing ward, in order to tell them how to properly and thoroughly do so, for Estel's sake, Estel himself was entering and wandering this same healing ward. You left him unattended before she had arrived to take your place guarding him. When she went looking for the manling where you left him, he was gone. She searched and found him here. Apparently, I was wrong when I thought she already told you of this the night Estel first grew ill. She is a remarkable elleth for not doing so herself after the way you accused her that night." Cuilbron's blue eyes widened as he gazed upon the other ellon. "Erestor?"

The steward released his fellow elf's arm, backed away, and let his head hang so he looked to the right of his feet. He stared at the spot with a grey face growing still darker grey. His lips slightly parted, but no sound came out.

Cuilbron stepped forward and poked the steward in the shoulder still staring at the other elf's slack face. "Erestor …"

The other elf did not look up, but raised one arm and waved it at him. "Go back to work, Cuilbron."

The healer raised an eyebrow, turned, and began to crush the leaves again, but he angled his body in such a way as to keep the steward visible from the corner of his eye. The other ellon finally raised his gaze to the doorway into the rest of the house. "You can do well enough here on your own?"

Cuilbron tried to keep his voice from going too stiff and dry. "Yes."

The steward nodded. "I am going to return to Estel's side."

A little tension left Cuilbron's form and he slowly nodded. "I think that would be wise."

 **If you like something I did, please tell me. If not, you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own Middle Earth, Erestor, or Estel; neither did I create them. Tolkein did and I am so glad for that. :)**

 **I did create Mellolaes.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only. So, please read and enjoy. :)**

Erestor stepped up into the doorway and froze. Mellolaes sat cross-legged upon Estel's bed. Estel himself lay in her lap. She held his upper body up in the crook of one arm. The fingers of her other hand ran along the manling's throat. It had been so sore of late. The boy winced every time he cleared it, swallowed, or spoke. Mellolaes' fingers glowed as she stroked.

Her head, though, was not bowed over her patient, but raised to gaze out one of the windows flanking the manling's bed. Estel's bright walls reflected enough moonlight back onto them that Erestor's elven eyes saw the scene clearly. He could hear it too.

Mellolaes' hum of a woodland elf tune mingled with Estel's breathing. Estel seemed deeply asleep now. His mouth was slightly open. His raw nose whistled with every breath. Even the ranger with the fever had struggled to breathe a few times while he was with them, but Estel never had, yet.

Erestor stepped inside. "You gaze longingly out the window Mellolaes. Do you wish for time outside before returning to your duties here?"

The elleth turned a blank face to stare at him in silence a long moment before replying with a gravity even he couldn't find fault with. "I will next go outside when Estel is well on his way to going with me."

Erestor nodded. Then he strode smoothly around the foot of the bed and to its side before her. Mellolaes' head turned in small increments to follow him with her steady, solemn gaze. His stare was also steady, but not sharp as usual. The healer felt his presence in the song like a heavy mist, dark, brooding, unclear. However, a string of puzzlement did reach forth from him to her.

He stopped. Mellolaes tilted her head and blinked at him. The ellon seemed to take this as an invitation to speak. "Why did you not tell me Estel's illness was my fault rather than your own?"

Mellolaes jerked back. Estel did not stir, but she was still glad the ellon had asked in Noldo not Sindar. She didn't want the meaning of the words drifting down either into the boy's fuzzy conscious nor his fuzzier subconscious. The full truth had bothered him so earlier.

The elleth's mind returned to the present. The ellon still stood before her, staring. Several more moments of silence passed between them. Then her reply just snapped out. "I did not believe you needed that."

The ellon's eyebrows rose. "'I' needed? What of you and your own needs?"

Mellolaes' mouth fell open and little. Then it closed and she shrugged. "What of them?"

"I accused you unjustly Merilvidhian. I am the one you answer to while Elrond is away. I could have made things most uncomfortable for you in my mistrust and desire to punish harm-causing negligence."

The elleth shrugged again. "You would not have."

Erestor's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"You knew it was best I remain with Estel for now."

"Ah." He stared at her another moment going back over their conversation in his mind. His brows drew together as he realized what was missing from it. "Why. Did you. Not. Tell me?"

Mellolaes sighed and slumped. Her voice came out harder too. "Because I did not want to add another load of crushing guilt upon your spirit. That would have been ill for Estel, you, and me. We needed you."

"You were protective of my spirit?"

"Yes."

"For Estel and your own sakes only."

"No."

"For what purpose then?"

Mellolaes' eyes narrowed and brow furrowed slightly. Her cheeks flushed pink in the moonlight. "Because I am a Silvan elf. We heal and protect all living things that are not direct servants of darkness. That has been our duty for well over an age. It is in our blood and our souls."

Erestor merely raised an eyebrow back at her. "And why did you not heal and protect yourself?"

Mellolaes' face went blank again. She was silent and still for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, bowed her head and sighed. Her voice came out softer than before and wavered. "Someone else does that for me. Sometimes I protect myself. Particularly when I become angry. When I am filled with anger, I sometimes forget, but … I often do not need to shove back to remain standing. He holds me up."

The ellon stared at her several moments before shaking his head and stepping back from her. "You are unfathomable, Mellolaes."

With her gaze still cast down, the elleth chuckled a little. She still smiled as she replied without looking up. "Thank you."

Erestor sighed and pulled a chair toward the bed settling it across from her and Estel. Then he sat in it, leaned over, and laid his chin upon a softly clenched fist. His dark eyes fixed themselves upon the manling. "I will stay with both of you a while."

Mellolaes finally looked back up at him. Her smiled softened. "I think that is good."

 **What did you think?**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	14. Chapter 14

**I did not create Middle Earth, Imladris, Luthien, Lord Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, Erestor, nor Noldo, Sindar, or Silvan elves. Tolkien did, and I am grateful to him for it. I did, however, create Mellolaes and Cuilbron.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

He sat next to his friend's graying face. He wondered if his own was becoming the same shade. He picked up his friend's hand. It was growing cooler. He glanced down at the dark pool forming by the soldier's leg. The liquid still gushed from the gash.

He reached out to dip his fingers in the pool. Then he rubbed their tips together. Warm. Warmth was leaving his friend with his blood. He had to stop it.

He took out the one thing he had managed to keep when he leapt in the sea his measuring line. He stared at the cord and stone. Then he set it aside. They would need it later. Like his father before him he would help measure and straighten strong, beautiful walls. Unlike his father's creations, his would have to keep out Morgoth's servants. They would have to prevent battles and wounds like this one. He took out instead the cords from the boats.

Feonor had been insane. Burning the boats, leaving the rest, his own brother, even if only half-brother, behind. What "he" himself wouldn't give to have all his brothers with him now, the strong rider, the strong wall builders, but it was just him, his friend and his friend's brothers. And all of the latter were out chasing down the servants of Morgoth and leaving them here.

"Do not be too hard on them. That is what they came do to after all to follow the sons of Feonor in their quest. Tis no other's fault I couldn't keep up. If you had a longer weapon, I would have insisted you go with them. If I had taken one of their swords instead of just trying to use my own blades, I might have avoided this wound."

He did not look at his friend while the older ellon spoke. Instead, he drew out the ropes he'd taken from the ships before they were torched and began to cut at them with his own knife. "You may be able to read my face, mellon nin, but you will never convince me to follow your brothers rather than you."

"Rather than sit beside me you mean. What are you doing?"

"I am going to stop the flow of this warm, red river sweeping out of your leg."

"How?"

"As you always stop the flow of a river, with a wall."

"Of rope?"

Erestor knelt down, lifted the injured leg, made a loop and then raised it over the wound and above it. "You must always go upstream to complete such a task …" He tightened the loop with a jerk. The other ellon's body jerked. A hiss echoed from him. He turned his face away. When he looked back, his features were creased in an expression of fury Erestor had only seen twice. When his friend learned the truth of the battle to gain the ships and when he learned how they were to be burned instead of sent back for those they might never see again and who could well have helped defend his brothers on these strange shores.

He could tell his friend's teeth were still clenched when he spoke next, both from seeing their connected white rows flashing in the light of the stars and at the sound his voice made. "You are very lucky, I had regained control just after yanking 'this' from it's sheath."

His friend lifted his dagger in the starlight. He glanced over it and turned away to see if his action had had the intended effect. "You should be keeping it out in case any of Morgoth's slaves slip through those out chasing them down."

His friend's expression of anger melted away into one of humor and despair. The older ellon shook his head as his hand clenching the blade's hilt lowered to the ground. "You amaze me, friend."

"We are all going to die on this shore, mellon nin. I might as well die by your hand here as anywhere else by anything else." He kept staring at the stream coming from the leg. It "had" slowed to a stream, now it was a trickle, now it disappeared. As he kept staring, his friend's voice entered his ears again.

"Yet, you have saved me …"

. . .

 _Save you …_

With the ropes from the burnt ships and his new knowledge of how to bind up and stop the flow of blood from limbs, he had been a prize for any wounded to have nearby before the moon rose over Arda's shores. Now though …

Erestor looked down upon Estel lying in his bed. A white, no, cream, hand appeared and dabbed away at his face again. Then it disappeared to dunk the cloth it clutched back into the bowl he held out. He watched the hand travel back to the boy's brow. So white was the manling's skin, too white, like theirs, but not like there's. His hair had turned darker in the dimness of the night and slicked with water from the bowl and sweat. Strands, even whole locks, were plastered to the pale skin.

It was better this way. The elleth had the soft, musical voice. He never seemed able or willing to sing himself. She had the healer's touch which all the knowledge of the world had not allowed him to gain. He held a bowl. While the healers scurried around keeping athelas steam rising from every container they could keep warm, he held out the bowl for her to dip cooling clothes in. Otherwise he was useless.

 _And I did this …_

. . .

 _"Where is he?! Where?!"_

The mouth in the face (he could barely call it a face) curled up into a smile revealing pointed teeth through the barely existent lips. Black eyes stared back into his. "He keeps the master company and his forge warm. He makes plenty of nice blades, short blades, for finishing your kind off after we've already sent their blood flowing into the ground … or our mouths, with longer pointy things."

 _"You lie!"_

He tightened his grip on the scrawny throat and thrust the small orc's back into the boulder's side again. Their new captain spoke softly behind him. _"Brother's heart-brother … if you bash all breath from our prisoner and keep him from gasping-in new, we'll get no answers from him."_

He reluctantly loosened his grip. After a wheezing breath, the orc lifted his gaze and leered at him again. "He's beyond your reach making pretty things, dangerous things, for the master on his forges burning-hot. He keeps the master's forges white-hot for him now, always."

 _"He does not!"_

He bashed the orc back into the stone again. Two hands then snatched his wrists and pulled him back as the tip of a sword appeared at the liar's throat. He was then jerked even farther back from the slave of Morgoth. A familiar, too familiar, voice whispered behind him. " _Enough! We've kept him from crying out in this dangerous place till now. We have traveled too far already toward Morgoth's gate! Now you will call his other slaves down on us simply by beating him against this rock as though it were a drum!"_

At the release of his wrists, he turned upon their new captain. _"Then maybe they will capture 'us' and take us to 'him'."_

The captain's slight frown fell away. His expression drooped in despair instead. _"And then what? Should we all make weapons with my brother on Morgoth's forge?"_

The loudest sound any of them made in that quest, was the smack that echoed from his strike against the highest ranking soldier's cheek. The mouths of the other four soldiers fell open even those of the two guarding the orc who looked on with gimlet, gleaming eyes and a twisted smile. The captain only raised his own fingertips to the place turning light pink. He gently prodded the area before speaking again. _"I deserve that … especially for what I am about to say."_

 _"Then do not speak it at all."_

 _The captain raised his eyes and met his gaze. "We have to go back."_

 _"We will not."_

 _"We must. There is no way to … We cannot succeed where Feonor's sons failed."_

 _"Yet, his nephew succeeded."_

 _"Morgoth will not hang my brother from a cliff-side after how doing so with another prisoner turned out for him. Besides … it is as our prisoner says."_ He nodded to the orc, but quickly looked back to meet his gaze again. _"Morgoth would use my brother's skills at his forges. He is good enough for that as we both well know. And I would not blame my brother for appeasing his captor that way. The last thing he called out to me, though, was to keep the others safe, and I intend to. If my brother is truly making weapons and armor for Morgoth now, then every soldier will be needed at the forts you helped us build to keep him safe."_

 _"You believe it. And you are going to abandon him."_

 _"It is all we can do now. All any of us can do now is look after each other as he would have wished."_

 _"You are all cowards."_

 _"'You' are going insane with grief, but I cannot afford to, not if I must follow his last instructions to me."_

He had turned from his friend's "brothers" and begun to walk toward Morgoth's gate, when he heard the whistle through the air. He looked back to face it. Then all went black.

He opened his eyes next and tried to move, but he was bound. He opened his eyes hoping to smell the filth of orcs and see the gate of Morgoth's fortress opening to welcome him, but no. There were the five familiar backs of his heart-brother's blood-brothers. Their own fort rose from the horizon. Their captain spoke. He must have heard his muffled snarl through the gags. "We killed the orc after questioning him a little farther. He described my brother very well and while we can never know for certain, I believe he spoke the truth. But perhaps it as you say, and he did not. Perhaps my brother is truly dead. If none of his work appears among our enemies, we can know our prisoner lied and you believed ... _knew_ the truth. You always did know and love him better than us."

. . .

Erestor gazed at Estel. He was never awake now, but never quite asleep either. The manling's mouth constantly remained open. His chest heaved just as constantly with tiny, wheezing breaths.

Erestor bowed his head.

One job. His most important job failed … again. Nothing he could do afterward would compare to the enormity of this. No success would wipe this defeat out.

"Erestor …" He looked up. The Silvan elelth was raising her patient up into the easiest angle to breathe again. She smiled gently at the ancient ellon. "I have seen manlings worse off than this."

"And they lived?"

"Some …"

He bowed his head into the bed-spread again. He felt a soft fingertip prod him. "If you are too weary now, go to bed, the mattress itself holds the bowl nicely."

"No … I will not leave my failure before it is complete."

"You have not failed. We have not failed. And if we are to succeed we will need our strength."

He looked up at her. Her own soft expressions and lowered eyelids spoke of tiredness. He swallowed. "This is not your fault. You have done much already and I do not believe he recognizes or knows anything now. Go and be where you can find the most comfort. You should not be forced to watch him die."

A smart slap echoed through the room. Healers turned from their other tasks with open mouths. Erestor's own mouth was open. The elleth glared and spat in Noldo. "We will not speak of death till death has come and especially not before the patient. Who knows what he knows? Do you? Are you in his head Noldo?"

"He is not Noldo."

Mellolaes turned wide eyes upon Cuilbron behind her. The healer shrugged and continued. "He is Luthien's kin."

The elleth turned widened eyes back to him. He lowered his gaze, a slight flushed changed the shade of his cheeks, but he remained silent. She quirked up an eyebrow. Suddenly, the manling nestled in the crook of her arm stirred.

All pairs of eyes swung to and focused upon him. His little lips moved, though barely any breath passed through them. Everyone frowned in confused concentration, save for the elleth holding him. She dropped a kiss upon his hot brow. Then murmured over him. "I am sorry mellon nin. Sorry. I will try not do it yet again."

"You understood him?"

She smiled. "He said, I promised not to fight with Erestor again."

Smiles flitted across the elves faces, save for one. He merely reached and took the boy's hand clutching it. Then he spoke in Noldo. None of the elves were very surprised by this. An academic ellon who saw to many tasks, including the passing on of knowledge from history, would know the language, and it was important to keep the patient from understanding some of their words at times. But Mellolaes herself frowned at them. Erestor's voice was more filled with emotion than she had ever heard it before. "I too am sorry mellon nin … I am sorry I have not kept your life from flowing away."

. . .

Dawn crept through the window. Erestor's face was turned from it so it warmed only the back of his head. One of his cheeks rested in a nest of blanket and mattress. His back rose and fell in long, slow breaths of sleep. His eyes were closed showing he needed it. Then his breathing hitched. His face flew up. His eyes started open. A fingertip had gently poked his shoulder.

His gaze focused upon the smirking face of a Silvan elleth. Her eyes laughed, though her lips pressed together to keep the ripples of it from leaving them. How could she?

Just before her own gaze flitted there in gesture, he turned his head to see. His little friend's chest rose and fell not in as deep, slow breaths as his, but steadily and silently. He placed a hand upon the boy's brow. Cooled … The skin beneath his hand had cooled. This time, his heart was gladdened by the sensation.

He began to laugh. The sound filled the room and startled healers sleeping across the hall. Mellolaes' lips parted and brow furrowed. _"Erestor,"_ she nearly spat. _"You will wake him!"_

Sure enough, a small moan came from the tiny, slightly open mouth. The manling turned over before murmuring in a sleepy voice. _"Stop fighting. .."_

 **If you liked this chapter please tell me. If it still need work tell me what to fix. :)**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	15. Chapter 15

**I neither created nor own Valinor, Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Bree, Breemen, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, or orcs. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes and Tilpithen.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

Erestor opened the door and paused. There was Estel sleeping alone in his bed with dawn's light pouring through the open windows flanking him. The elleth who had been keeping him asleep or entertained through singing, story-telling, and dancing or cartwheeling around his bed, however, was nowhere to be seen. Erestor had raised his hand to his chin to rub it, when the window pane on Estel's left rose slightly and silently.

A head blazing red and amber like the sunrise behind it appeared. Then a form slipped through, or half of one, before she spied him. "Erestor."

He nodded back. "Mellolaes. I have told you if you weary of your duties indoors you may go outside for long walks while your charge sleeps so deep."

"No, no." Mellolaes finished entering through the window and pushed it down to the halfway point behind her. "I am fine sitting on the roof and clambering about the tree outside his windows now and again. I can hear him through them if he sighs or stirs inside from just out there."

"Indeed."

Lights of amusement lit the ellon's eyes as he watched the elleth, now perfumed with scents of the outdoors, lay down next to the sleeping manling and fall back into a drowse herself. Erestor moved over to her side and gazed at the elleth's soft, still face and the slight movements of her breathing. Then he turned and studied the new piece of furniture in the corner.

Apparently, she had ordered it through the latest caravan of dwarves to pass through. Two had returned to bring it back and collect a far too large amount of gold for the simple task. The amount had been half a month of Mellolaes' pay as far as he could figure. She claimed it worth it. He himself had not seen the value of the gift at first.

He moved over to the piece and stared at it again. Most things in The Last Homely House were made of metal. This though, was formed from golden-amber wood much the same color as the elleth's hair. The thinner pieces curved as they were made it obvious they had been carved from large, fallen branches of yet living trees, great pines most likely. The places where there ought to be short pieces of plank were instead woven wickerware covered by cushions and folded crocheted blankets. All had arrived already together, the blankets bound down with strings. The former smelled of wool from sheep raised by, and dyes made by, men of Bree. Indeed, the whole of it had obviously been made by the hands of Breemen (though the better craftsmen among them). The dwarves had apparently only ordered and delivered.

Erestor had immediately asked Mellolaes what the point of bringing such simple and un-elegant furnishings into Estel's room, let alone the Hidden Valley, was? She had then replied that "was" the point. If Estel ever went out on his own to places inhabited by such people, "something" he might find there would seem familiar to him, even bring fond memories to his mind. Erestor had not been able to argue with this. However, he suspicioned until that day came, Estel would love her gifts simply because he could now both remain sitting as per healers' orders and move back and forth with alarming speed all at the same time.

Erestor continued his loop of steps around the "rocking-chair" one more time in study before pausing, turning, and carefully lowering himself onto it for the first time. As soon as he lifted his feet, it swayed backward with him in it. He gripped the "arms" of the thing. What an unnatural sensation to feel upon sitting! After tilting backward just a little farther, the thing paused and swayed forward again so his feet went back down to rest upon the floor.

The ancient ellon was about to give an undignified sigh of relief when a sound greeted his ears. Mellolaes sat straight up and stared. "Was that what I think it was?"

Erestor had opened his mouth to reply, when a near-matching and much closer call came through both windows. Estel sighed and turned over, his brow furrowing a moment before relaxing again. If his body was any more recovered, he would have reacted like Mellolaes. She rose and walked through the hallway and into Erestor's own rooms. He followed her leaving every door open to better hear any sound Estel made behind them. Then they both gazed out from his balconey standing side by side. A horn sounded from beyond the valley again, not a sound with any particular message this time, just a few notes filled with joyous emotion communicating so much more than words ever could.

Mellolaes smiled. Dew-drop tears budded from her eyes. "They have come home!"

Erestor smiled himself and nodded as well. "They have indeed."

The two stood until the painted shades of dawn gave way to broader daylight, which illuminated the bright colors of the valley and pale tones of its houses. Finally, they could see four figures on horses coming up the paved road. Mellolaes turned to him then. "May I … go greet them first?"

Erestor turned to her mouth open to tell her all the reasons the house's steward had to see his lord and give him his reports before anyone else. At the look on the nurse's face, he shut his mouth. Then he swallowed. The steward thought to himself of all the reasons she could have to speak to his lord sooner rather than later. Most of the reasons he came up with were in regard to his behavior. He deserved it.

He nodded and tilted his head toward the rooms beyond his and across the hall. "You may go. I shall remain near until you return."

She gave him a bright grin. "Thank you." Then she rushed off like a squirrel up a tree. Erestor raised an eyebrow. Odd she should say so friendly a goodbye if she were about to relate his failings to his lord.

He peered back down and watched four weary elves on four weary mounts enter the courtyard. One of the nearly identical pair of elves had an arm in a silng. Twas he the elleth with burning cheeks and snapping eyes approached. Both Erestor's brows rose almost to his hairline.

Elladan had barely turned to Mellolaes when she leapt at the ellon still astride his horse. Arms outstretched, she snatched the front of his shirt and dragged his face down by it until the former was even with hers. There, he was bent double and crookedly crouched on his mount. Once she had him there, Mellolaes promptly yelled at him. Thankfully, his stallion didn't even shy from the elleth's tirade. Perhaps the animal was that comfortable near the Silvan or perhaps it was that exhausted from its journeying.

Erestor leaned over his balcony railing for an even better look at this scene and to better listen to it. Some of the elleth's words were Sindarin and some were seemingly Silvan. All were spoken so quickly and in such high strident tones, it was hard to tell. Mostly, her speech seemed to be about not careful enough ellon with little brothers who went off and put themselves in danger without taking proper care of themselves, almost breaking their little brother's heart beyond repair in the process, and leaving others to pick him up and make him well again if they could while hurting themselves. How could they even have contemplated let alone almost done such a thing?

Erestor blinked and swept his gaze over the wider scene. His Lord Elrond seemed to be staring at this outburst from Estel's nurse with the same wide eyes and raised-high brows Erestor felt gracing his own face. Elrohir and Glorfindel, however, had found the strength to laugh and laugh deeply. Without the balance of their kind, they would have fallen off their mounts.

Perhaps it was this sound that covered those he should have heard from Estel's room, the hallway, and his own rooms. Either way, he was barely conscious of the boy coming to stand by his side, rubbing his own small eyes with small fists, and then following his gaze. The shout brought the steward's attention back to his own task, however. "Melly's shouting at Eldan!"

Erestor's gaze snapped to him. Then he straightened, placed his hand gently upon the manling's shoulder and nodded. Amazement colored his reply. "Yes, she is."

Then the look of shock left the manling's face replaced by the brightest grin perhaps any had ever seen there. He leapt into the air with more energy than he'd had in weeks. "Eldan's home! And Elhir, and ada, and Glorfdel!"

The boy tried to take off like a rock from the sling, but Erestor scooped him up into his arms. "Ah, now Estel, they shall be right up to see you soon. I promise. No need to weary yourself going down to them."

Estel opened his mouth to protest, but then spotted all the faces in the courtyard turned up to see him, including the still pink and now dismayed face of his nurse. He waved to them all. "Hi ada, hi Eldan, hi Elhir, hi Glordel, hi Melly! Can you finish yelling at Eldan later, so he can come up and see me?!"

 **If you liked something, please tell me. If you didn't, please tell me what I can do better. :)**

 **God Bless and keep you**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	16. Chapter 16

**I neither created nor own Valinor, Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Doriath, Galadriel, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, Melian, Luthien, or Elwing. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes, Cuilbron, and Alphtithen.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.**

"I hear our lord, princes, and captain are back."

Erestor turned still holding Estel. Cuilbron stood in the doorway. Althithen was poking her head inside too smiling at him, or maybe Estel, or perhaps both.

Erestor nodded and walked toward them. Both backed away and stopped smiling. He followed and plopped Estel into the healer's arms.

Cuilbron caught the manling in a proper hold and turned widened eyes upon the steward. His expression, though, was nothing compared to Estel's. The manling raised large, watering eyes and pouty lips to his friend. Altiphen's gaze darted back and forth from Estel, Cuilbron, and Erestor. She took three steps back from the group and folded her hands behind her back seemingly afraid her steward would fill them with something squirmy, awkward, and important too if she left them available.

Erestor tucked his chin in and met the manling's sad gaze unflinchingly first. "Cuilbron is going to carry you to your ada, brothers, and Glorfindel, Estel.

The boy's pout flashed away into a shining grin. Cuilbron scowled. He growled in Noldo over his patient's head. "You want 'me' to explain the last month and more to our lord?"

Erestor met the healer's glare without changing expression. "You may tell him the whole truth and absolve yourself and all other parties, save myself, from guilt in his eyes. I have something to accomplish before whatever punishment our lord hands down falls upon me."

Cuilbron's eyes went wide again, but then he stood aside to let Erestor pass. After that, he turned and strode with the manling to the head of the stairs. "Come then, Estel. We are going to greet your father, brothers, and friend."

"YAY!"

Altithen curtsied to Erestor with a beaming smile, and then turned and strode down the hallway too. Erestor went the opposite direction to a hidden door in the hallway. After passing through it, he headed down one of the servant passages to arrive on the first floor. He paused in a parlor off the main entryway. He heard the slight sounds of elven armor, four sets, moving with their wearers into the house, past the room he stood in, and up the great flight of stairs. Then he poked his head out into the main hallway. The boy's nurse stood at the bottom of the stairs gazing up. Erestor whispered her direction. _"Mellolaes …"_

The elleth turned to him with widened eyes. The ellon stepped further into her line of sight and spoke again. "I was hoping you might accompany me outside. That way our lord, his children, and our captain will reunite in privacy and we can speak together with the same for a short while."

Mellolaes' brows rose, but she walked to him. He turned and left the house, passed through the gardens, and strode down to a stream. She followed.

Mellolaes noticed it was the same stream she had sat over in the willow tree when Glorfindel found her. The area was a different bend of it, though. Erestor stopped and stood staring into the gently moving water. She sat and pressed her back into the trunk of a great tree before lifting her gaze to watch him. He spoke first. "What did you tell my lord, princes, and their captain after you … reprimanded Elladan?"

Mellolaes smiled, then her lips turned down somewhat as she shrugged. "I told them Estel had been very ill, probably due to the visit of a fevered man to our valley earlier. Then I said he had more excellent care than I'd ever seen a manling receive before, was now much better, and currently eager to see them all."

Erestor's shoulders fell a little. A sad smile turned up the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. "You again left out the part about me."

Mellolaes shrugged and smiled.

Erestor stared into the water as his expression softened. "You are very kind, Mellolaes."

A corner of her mouth quirked up farther. Erestor sighed, closed his eyes, and he went on. "You are as kind to me as Melian and Luthien were."

Mellolaes' eyes widened. She raised a hand and pressed it to her chest over her heart while staring still more intently as him. Erestor nodded. "Yes." He turned to and pierced the elleth with a harder gaze. "That is one reason I brought you here before speaking to our lord. Elrond does not know what you learned from Glorfindel." He fell silent a moment and swallowed before going on. "Few do. As far as most know, I am 'kin of Luthien.' Galadriel, our captain, and Idrehnotar know I came here with them from Valinor long ago, but you may be the only one born long after to know it."

Mellolaes blinked at him. "Why?"

Erestor gazed down as his feet. "After the death of my … my heart-brother, I could no longer live in a Noldor city, 'any' Noldo city. So, I traveled to the girdle of Melian."

Erestor raised his gaze to meet Mellolaes'. She had set her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her fist, but her eyes had now gone even wider and her skin paler than usual. He voice came out breathless. "'That' was a very dangerous journey!"

Erestor gave a stiff nod. "It was. When I arrived, I looked unwell, and Thingol was not happy I had successfully reached his kingdom. He was quite cross when I was brought before him. Melian spoke up for me. She said she could see as disreputable as I looked I was no danger to their kingdom and could even do it good. I promised not to try to return to my own kin and vowed to serve theirs as if they were my own and I had never done anything else. I promised to do so the rest of my days in arda, however many or few they were if he and his kin continued to allow me to do so. He agreed. Melian and Luthien treated me like a patient at first. Soon though, I insisted they treat me like a servant. Afterward, I was allowed to serve in various compacities as my strength and knowledge of their kingdom grew. When Thingol perished and Melian fled, I continued to serve in their household even as Doriath grew dim without their light. I served their grandson and his family. Then, at his death, I fled the sons of Feonor with the party escorting Elwing. I mourned her father and hated his killers as much as any of them. When we arrived beside the sea, I helped her and the others settle. Then I told all there who knew me before my journey to Doriath not to confuse her or any of those born after I left the Noldo. I was 'kin of Luthien.' That was all any needed to know about me. I continued to serve Elwing, and then her sons. I serve her son now."

"Why does the truth from before need to remain hidden? How can it threaten the bonds you've forged with them all their lives?"

Erestor raised his gaze to see Mellolaes leaning over her crossed legs and staring up at him with intent, but unthreatening green eyes. He sighed. "What good would it do?"

Mellolaes straightened, reached into her sleeve, drew something out, and presented it to him. Erestor raised his brows at the sight and glanced up at her. "Do you usually have this hidden upon your person?"

The Silvan nodded with a smirk. "Examine it."

He reached out and took the dagger. His eyes widened further. The blade and hilt were of a polished brown stone with streaks of black running throughout it. The blade was long and thin, with perfectly symmetrical sides and edges sharp enough to slice through a single hair cleanly. Carved into the hilt were inward curves. They would allow thin fingers to grip it tightly. Where blade met hilt there was chiseled out the design of a fawn curled up as if in the hollow of the tree the weapon was meant to resemble. In the main hilt itself was carved a form almost unnoticeable to human eyes. Erestor, however, could see it was meant to be a baby squirrel. At the top of the hilt was a cap of green obsidian carved to seem like a mass of tiny leaves, some raised to the sun, others resting in shade where the hues of the stone itself changed. Within them was a bird of the same brown obsidian as the rest of the knife sitting upon its nest.

Erestor nodded over the dagger. "It was made for you."

Mellolaes nodded back with a smile. "But by whom?"

Erestor's brow furrowed in concentration. He examined the weapon again. A name was carved into the blade itself. Again, the thin-lined, shallow letters in elvish would be imperceptible to human eyes, but he was able to read them. "Sarnhael Celuant."

"What can you tell about him from his work?"

Erestor ran his gaze up and down the weapon again. So perfectly fitted was the brown bird and nest into the green stone it seemed all one piece. No tool he knew of would fit between the stones and pry the design loose from its setting. The blade's symmetrical proportions were exact. The letters themselves were neat, evenly spaced, and the angels of some of the lines along with their width gave it away entirely. Erestor's brows rose. "He is … Noldo, is he not?"

Mellolaes gave a soft smile and nod. "He was born so, but has lived among our people and been accepted as our own for well over an age."

Erestor nodded again before holding the blade back out to her. "So, I am not the only one. I did realize this before, but it is interesting to see the work of another with a like story."

Mellolaes glanced at the knife and then back up at Erestor. "Keep it."

The Noldo's brows rose again. "Why?"

"Because I want you to remember the worth of one who came from a different place, settled among another people, and thrives there helping them thrive too."

Erestor gave her a smile. "I thank you for the sentiment, but you should keep your weapon."

Mellolaes smirked before leaning back into the tree again. She shook her head. "I will not allow you to return it until my healer's-intuition tells me my gift has accomplished its task."

Erestor rolled his eyes and then rose to his feet, placing the blade in his belt. He held his hand out to her. "Have you another?"

Mellolaes placed her hand in his and let him help her up. Her eyes glinted as she nodded. Erector smiled and nodded back. "Alright then, I shall keep it with me to satisfy you. For a little while."

 **If you liked something, please tell me. If not, tell me how to improve it. :)**

 **God Bless and keep you**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	17. Chapter 17

**I did not create Erestor, Glorfindel, Lord Elrond, Estel/Aragorn, Greenwood the Great, King Thranduil, Lothlorien, Galadriel, Noldo or Silvan elves, nor Valinor. Tolkien did and I am extremely grateful. I did however, create many other characters mentioned in this chapter.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained.**

Should I worry you are here near a waterfall holding a knife?"

Erestor turned to see Glorfindel standing behind him still in his armor and traveling clothes, arms folded over his chest, and a gentle smile on his lips.

Erestor turned back toward the waterfall some ways beyond the ledge he stood upon. "Did our lord send you?"

"He says he wishes to speak with you. Do not worry. He is not angry. In fact, he is rather relieved, perhaps even impressed. A man and a manling have been ill with summer-fever in our valley in the last two months and both apparently weathered and recovered from it very well in his absence." Glorfindel softened his voice still further. "We … may have attempted to expose Estel to it purposefully when he was older if he had not caught it now. Though we would have waited till his strength was greater and Elrond himself was here to see him through it, we would not wish him to catch it far from here and us even as a man."

Erestor nodded. "So … my position is still secure?"

"If my lord's tone, expression, and demeanor is to be believed and I am not a fool at reading them, then yes. So, you can put the knife away and step back from where this ledge ends."

Erestor turned and gave Glorfindel a rueful grin before tossing him the knife. "It is Mellolaes'. She gave it to me."

Glorfindel caught the weapon by its hilt and immediately began to examine it. His eyes widened. "It is very like his workmanship!"

"If he ever worked with stone, which he did not." Erestor held an open hand out to the other Noldo who slapped its hilt back into his palm. Erestor wrapped his hand around it and placed it in his belt again.

Glorfindel grinned at the blade peeking out from the steward's belt. "You won't be able to wield it nearly as well as your own made by him. That blade was made for her. Tis even more obvious than it will be when Estel gets his first wooden and then metal sword."

"Indeed," Erestor nodded and then continued, "it seems her 'moss-covered boulder' is quite the crafter and knows her well."

"One of Greenwood's adopted Noldos?"

"Yes, she told me of him and made a comparison I believe. That is why she gave me the blade."

Glorfindel nodded to himself while staring at the waterfall with the other elf. Then he gave a smug grin. "Ever wish you went to the 'Singing woods' instead of Doriath?"

"No."

"Not even now you and Mellolaes seem to be getting along better?"

Erestor paused longer before he answered, and his expression softened. "She is not what I feared. Not at all, but I am content in my lord's service."

"I suggest you get back to it then."

Erestor nodded. "Yes." He turned and began walking back down into the valley and toward the houses.

Glorfindel followed hand on the pommel of his sword, but in the casual manner of a soldier used to being ready for anything even at ease. His voice was still casual, but sad when he spoke next. "Do you still carry his blades?"

"Yes."

"Have you had need to use them?"

"A few times."

"Then … his legacy has not been in vain."

Erestor strode in silence a few more moments before he replied. "I suppose not."

"He would be proud of how you have served others, Erestor. He would not want you to live your life as if it matters not to you."

"I know. But considering how his ended, it is difficult for me to shake the guilt mine continues so well."

"Would it make any but a happier difference to him if you were happy?"

"I know not. But I cannot force myself beyond this grief."

Glorfindel bent and shook his head. Then he heard a call from high in the sky. He turned his face up to smile at the eagle, who seemed to smile back before flying on into the east.

. . .

Sarnhael Celuant strode home after a day in service to his king. He had stood guard while Thranduil received query after query, reviewed case after case, and pronounced judgement after judgement. Now, he and the king had finally been released to return to their private rooms and respective wives.

When they had parted ways, Thranduil had sighed in relief at being able to fully lift his head. Sarnhael's lips had twitched at the sound. Many of the woodland realm's underground halls were chiseled out with Silvan and Doriath Sindar in mind. Neither branch of the fair folk were famous for their height. Thranduil was an exception. All the halls of the royal wing had high ceilings.

Sarnhael's head did not brush against earth as he went to his rooms. Stooped shoulders and a bent back had long negated his natural stature. At moments like these, he did not mind.

Yet, the soldier's steps remained slow. He had no good news to share with his bride. Twas unlikely she had any to greet him with either. Dark had grown the days of Greenwood the Great.

The ancient ellon's gaze grew blank. His mind drifted back in time. An elfling used to rush to him through this hall.

Like his bride's had been the grinning face lifted to his. Sarninian's skin, however, had shone like his once had long before she was born. Silver eyes, less hard and purer than his otherwise matching ones, had brightened as she cast herself into his arms. He would lift and carry her back to her mother standing in the doorway smiling and seemingly proud to welcome such a pair home.

Centuries later, their son had rushed to meet him instead. The eyes that had laughed up into Sarnhael's then had been amber; apparently, the hues of Sarnin's dark brown and his clear grey had mixed in those of their second babe. Heniavas' spirit, though, was most certainly Silvan. A mischievous smirk had often graced the elfling's face. Millennia later, he still grinned so.

Some of Sarnin's sweetness was in their son, too. Few saw it, for he'd also gained his adar's stubbornness. Both their children had gotten that. Sometimes, Sarnin claimed their unfaltering will came from her also. She "was" one who did not easily give up. He had learned that many times.

Sarnhael smiled at still older memories. Then his mind slowly turned back to he and his wife's descendants. Both their elfings had eventually had elfings of their own. All those little ones were grown and flown from the nests they had hatched in. His heart's desire still remained for him to return home to today, and every day, however. Hopefully, she would be until the Woodland Realm's fortress was taken or the darkness surrounding it took him from her first. Either possibility could occur any time now.

The ellon paused before his closed door. He blinked. His bride always knew when he approached. She stood in the doorway long before he arrived and peered out at him whether with a smile or tears.

Fear shot through Sarnhael's curved spine. He flung the door open and stepped inside. Then the ellon stood as straight as he could.

His whole family smiled back at him. Sarnin grinned from the back of the room. Their daughter, Glosien, and her husband stood at Sarnin's right with their daughters and son standing beside them. Upon his bride's left stood their son and daughter-in-law and their daughter. Just before him, though, stood his youngest grandson holding the hand of the only non-family member there.

The sweet elleth often made Sarnhael think of his own beloved. She smiled at him blushing as some Doriath Sindar did. (She'd not been born in that realm, but her parents had.) Stars seemed to blink at him from the velvet darkness of her eyes. Everyone in the room wore smug smiles, but those of the two standing just before him were brightest of all.

The eldest ellon's shoulders fell. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and folded his arms over his chest. "Alright then … what occasion have I missed?"

Tirven and Nithrestil turned their faces to gaze into each other's eyes. A long moment passed. Then they turned their grins back to Sarnhael and lifted intertwined hands. "We've become engaged!"

Sarnhael stepped nearer and stared down at their fingers. Silver rings winked up at him. He smiled. They were the ones from Valinor. Once, he'd placed one on Sarnin's finger, and the other upon his own. They still wore their matching gold ones. These silver circlets, though, had been passed through every couple in the room.

He lifted the lady's hand to kiss her ring finger. "Congratulations … I will be most honored to have you added to our family, lady Nithrestil. Are you certain though …" He tilted his head toward the light coming from a nearby beeswax candle, "you wish to look upon this face at every family gathering?"

Others in the room chuckled. The maiden of Doriath heritage, however, lifted her hand and laid it gently against his cheek. Dark eyes moistened. A soft voice, melodious as a dove's coo came from her lips. "I do not mind at all." She caressed the scars.

He smiled at her before stepping back and slipping gently from her touch. "Alright then, as long as you recall this reply when your elfling is born with the same face."

Sarnin had been creeping up to his side. Showing a spark of Silvan spirit, she slapped his upper arm. "Celuant!"

Sarnhael turned a grin upon her. Now and then someone else tried calling the name she'd given him long ago. He simply ignored them until they stopped.

Tirven rolled his eyes, bent his head, and whispered into his betrothed's ear as if they would not all overhear anyway. "He said that to my mother too, and my sister and I are both smooth-cheeked."

All the "youngsters" in the room, including the blushing bride-to-be, laughed. Nithrestil did so with tears. This showed how new she was to their family still.

Tirven, his sister, father, aunt, and cousins had never mentioned the scars on the head of their family's face. Heniavas had once glanced about at other gathered ellon when he was very small and asked why they didn't look like his ada. That had also gained a laugh.

Hopefully, Nithrestil would learn to see his scars with tearless eyes someday too, if they all remained in Arda long enough. Manwe and Elbereth had said the bend in his back and stoop of his shoulders would disappear in Valinor. Perhaps the scars would do the same.

Soon the members, and soon to be member, of their family sat cross-legged around a long, low table. There they devoured honey, bread, and salad. Instead of the staple it had been, Mirkwood salads were beginning to be saved for special occasions. They must, therefore, eat it on "this" night.

Twas Tirven's mother who first questioned the bride-to-be about the wedding. "Have your nanneth and you already begun sewing your wedding gown, Nithrestil?"

Nithrestil pursed her lips before replying. "No … she and I have begun to draw out its pattern, but we are uncertain about where to get the material. We were thinking of asking Malthedui if she knows of weavers in Lothlorien who would be willing to part with some of their cloth. Members of my mother's kin still live there. Maybe they will wish to help us."

Tirven turned to his betrothed. "Why not wait and see if we can find a fitting weaver in Imladris? Then you can have an excuse to discuss your dress and other details of the wedding with your heart-sister."

A sudden clang sounded through the room. Nearly every head at the table turned. Sarnhael had been cutting through a hunk of bread. After his grandson spoke, the blade had shot through and struck his platter. Troubled eyes rested upon him. He kept his own stare upon the bread as he spoke. "The two of you are going to Imladris?"

Tirven's lips tightened together. Then they parted to reply. "Yes, Grandfather. I have been planning on going there this Yule. I will now take my betrothed, so she can visit her heart-sister. Nithrestil wishes to see Mellolaes and 'I' wish to show my beloved the Hidden Valley and guard her well there and on the way back." He turned his stare upon his to-be-bride again.

Nithrestil gave her beloved a peck on the cheek. Then she turned dark, worried eyes on the oldest ellon there. "You … do not mind … do you ... Sarnhael? I …"

"It is a dangerous journey …"

Tirven turned hard eyes to face his grandfather again. "We will be going with the king, queen, Beldoron, and their entire guard. We will be far safer than Mellolaes' company was on her way to the Hidden Valley."

Nithrestil's brow furrowed slightly as this. Her betrothed didn't notice as he kept narrowed eyes upon his grandfather.

Sarnhael raised his gaze. He glanced first to his grandson before staring upon his soon to be granddaughter-in-law. The ancient ellon studied the Sindar elleth's face. He kept his own expression almost unreadable. His steel eyes flashed at first. Eventually though, they melted. "Just remain near my grandson's side or Mellolaes' at all times, Nithrestil. We would hate to lose you to any tragedy before you are even kin."

Sarnhael looked back to his food and drink. Others broke in to fill the void of silence. He let the conversation go every which way around him while listening to all and commenting on naught. As those who no longer lived there prepared to leave their family heads in peace, Tirven departed from Nithrestil's side to stand briefly before his grandfather. "Is there something else you wish to say tonight, or sometime tomorrow you wish to meet?"

Sarnhael glanced at Nithrestil over his grandson's shoulder. Tension screamed in her eyes. The ancient ellon then looked back to his grandson. "Your betrothed wishes to see Mellolaes again. And she should. But take as many blades as you can openly wear on your person and hide upon it as well. It is a dangerous journey you wish to take. Protect her and yourself with all you have."

A grin flashed over Tirven's face. "Thank you grand-adar. I will. I shall fail neither her trust nor yours."

He gave his grandson a half-grin and slight bow. "You are most worthy of my trust, grand-ionneg."

After Tirven left with his bride-to-be, walking her to the halls of her own family, Sarnhael turned to his beloved. She was gathering and stacking the dishes. He snuck up behind her and moved her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck. "That was lovely, my own fair bride. Even in these dark times, you put together a grand family gathering."

He felt more than saw her smile, but definitely felt her arm snake around his middle and clutch him close, hip to hip. She lifted her lips. He stilled his breathing as the whisper into his mis-shapened ear. "Come with me to the lakeside."

They stepped out the back way. Most homes nestled among the tunnels of Greenwood had them. All that did not, had a tunnel to those which did.

Even if it was finally taken, trying to stop the wood-elves from escaping their fortress would prove difficult. It would also be difficult for an orc to discover let alone use any of their exits. They were often opened and closed by trees. Others were quite a tight fit for elves let alone orcs. This one was the latter. The gap was barely wide enough for Sarnin to lift her dishes through, before Celuant lifted her up through it, and dragged himself up and out. It was oddly shaped to allow her slim form and his bent one to slide through.

With one arm wrapped around each other and their free hands holding dishes they walked down to the lakeside together. There, Sarnin set aside the dishes, stepped into the waters and began to drag her husband in. Celuant laughed. "Beloved. The dishes."

She lifted a smiling face and stuck her tongue out at him. "They can wait."

He laughed again, set his dishes in the sand, and followed her. Soon they were both waist-deep. She lifted her face up to his. "Water is special isn't it?"

Celuant cradled her face in his hands and raised his eyebrows. "How can 'I' argue with that?"

Sarnin wriggled her toes in the pebbles beneath them. "And stones found in the water are special too."

"Of course … we both know that."

Her smile twisted slightly in discomfort before she spoke again. "Do you ever think … it could be Tirven's preference for water and stone, which he inherited from us, that causes him to favor Imladris?"

Sarnhael's brow furrowed. He looked from her face to the tree-lined shore. "'That' is what you brought me out here to discuss?"

"Yes. Lothlorien is wonderful, and it would be safe, but you know where his heart is set … I would not be surprised if, once she sees it, Nithrestil will have her own heart drawn to Imladris too, and not just for his sake, but from her own interests as well."

"Both are too young to have 'seen' Lothlorien. They do not know it. Once they do, the woods will reassert themselves in their hearts again. They are Doriath Sindar and Silvan."

His wife cocked her head and took a slight step around to look her husband in the face again. "And one of them is part Noldo too."

Celuant slumped and closed her eyes under her gaze. "I always knew our son falling for the half-Noldo maiden from Doriath would bring our kin troubles."

"Celuant!"

He smiled and turned his gaze upon her before shrugging. "You know I love our daughter-in-law as much as do you. She cannot help her birth."

Sarnin rolled her eyes before knitting her brows at him again.

Her husband continued. "And yes … I admit it … some of our grandson's love for such things also comes from me and you. But I'd prefer he stay with lakeshore and river-stones as you always have my love."

She now laid her own hands against his scarred cheeks and whispered with tears. "But Tirven won't. I know it in my heart even if you refuse the truth, Celuant. When this land falls, when we fall, he may run first to our woodland kin, but then he will go on to Imladris and take Nithrestil with him. Even their wedding may take place there."

Celuant stared into her eyes tears filling his own. He reached out and cupped her face in his hands. "When 'we' fall, Softest-of-hearts? You will not flee with them, our children and grandchildren? They will continue to fill your life with joy, and I'm sure there are river-stones in Lothlorien."

"There may be, but I cannot say, until that day, if I will have the strength to run away alongside them if you do not flee with us."

Celuant exhaled a long sigh as he lifted his gaze to the stars. For a moment, he was silent, and then, "I cannot abandon our king, nor our queen. I cannot abandon the remainder of this people and land that welcomed me, helped me heal along with you and The Merciful."

His wife's reply was soft. "I would not ask you to."

"And much as I respect Celeborn and Galadriel … I do not know if I could serve them."

"Because of Galadriel?"

Celuant turned toward the tree-lined shore putting his back more fully to the Lonely Mountain.

His bride continued. "She might recognize you."

"Not in form nor face, perhaps not even in voice. Even that has been changed somewhat, but … she has ways. She might even know of me now. I do not wish to know if she does."

"Are you still ashamed?"

"Tis the pity. 'Your' face, and the faces of your niece and nephews, and finally all your kin were filled with it at first, and much as I grew to love them and you, I would not go through that again. Besides … Valinor …"

She snaked her arm around him again and leaned into his warm flesh. "Do you want me to go there with you?"

He shrugged. Another silence fell over them before he gave a sigh. "Tis a wondrous life beyond the sea, but I hate the thought of them losing us both. A broken world needs your gentle heart, Beloved."

"And your own strong one and sharp mind as well, Celuant."

"Neither are doing the trick this time. The shadow grows. All good things in our woods retreat. We are falling now. My weapons, calm, and strategy do little to stop or slow it."

"They still do much. Any place we flee to would be happy to have you there with your talents, strength, and generosity."

"I cannot trust them, Sarnin. Cannot you grasp this even after … Tis hard enough letting 'our' kin walk among them knowing what they would do if something happened. And no. I do not like the thought of Tirven living among them for who knows how many centuries, an age maybe, with his bride and maybe elflings growing up among such cowards."

"It has been an age. And the great enemy is gone."

"But his second may not be, not fully. 'He' might still recall me. His master was not happy with me in those days. I do not want my kin among the Noldos who lived then, and I doubt, if they knew, they would want my kin with them either."

"I think you judge them wrong at least Lord Elrond would not be so."

"He is half Doriath Sindar and brave Edain. I wish I could have given Beren and Luthien aid when they went through those dark halls together to best 'him.'"

"Do you?"

He looked back into her eyes. His own gaze softened. He rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Perhaps not."

She blushed and then squeezed her husband's waist again. "I happen to know even then, all Noldos were not so bad."

He gave her a soft smile. "Thank you, my sweet."

 **If you liked something, please tell me. If not, you can tell me that too.**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


	18. Chapter 18

**I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Greenwood the Great, Imladris, Arda, Valinor, Noldo elves, Sindar elves, or Silvan elves. Tolkien did and I'm very grateful. I did create Tirven, Sarnin, Sarnhael Celuant, and queen of Greenwood Lathwinn the Great.**

 **This story is for entertainment purposes only, so God bless and enjoy. :)**

Sarnhael chipped away at one stone with another while facing the lake, which was now always embraced by the vast forest that was Greenwood the Great. Then the older ellon raised his head and glanced over his shoulder with a smile. It was not a Silvan smirk, but it was the best his Noldo lips and scarred cheeks could do. "Are you attempting to practice a warrior's sneak upon me, grand-ionneg?"

Tirven froze in his approach behind his grandfather's back. Then he straightened, folded his hands together behind his back, and replied, "No grand-adar..."

"Come stand beside me then." Sarnhael turned his head back to concentrate on his work.

Tirven, without unfolding his hands, stepped up to stand a pace away from his grandfather's side. The toes of his deer-antler-hide-shed shoes brushed the sand of the lakeshore. Instead of staring at the water or the trees around them, however, he focused on the stone his kin was forming into a blade.

The more ancient ellon interrupted the silence. "Why have you sought me out, Tirven?"

Tirven remained silent a few moments. He dipped his chin in even more. His eyes seemed inward focused as he replied. "Are you angry with me, grand-adar?"

Sarnhael's paused in his chipping, rose out of his crouch slightly, and sighed before bending back over his work. "Not at you, grand-ionneg."

"At who are you angry then? Lord Elrond? His sons?"

Sarnhael raised the half-finished blade before his lips and blew. He placed it back down and began again while answering, "I am angry at those in Imladris who play with your heart and your loyalty."

Tirven grimaced. He looked up just enough to gaze at the back of his grandfather's head. "They are not them, grand-adar."

"I thought the same about all my brothers, especially my eldest when I shouted to him as the orcs dragged me down from the saddle. I had no idea my last command to him would cause him to deny my later plea."

Tirven fell silent. He looked away for a long moment and then back to reply. "But you forgave them later. And all who denied you access to the city then have died."

"Not all ... most, and the last did not exactly deny me. He even spoke up in my favor, but then fell silent at an order from the fort-commander. Besides, I was not the only one nor that the only fort who turned the newly espcaped away in those days."

Tirven remained silent until his grandfather stopped his work to look up at him. "That is what we love about our Silvans, Tirven. Though it has hurt our queen badly, even when their king gives them orders, they will often choose loyalty and love over following orders of other elves and not for the things they made, but for the things the Singer has made and given to them. There is a time to obey, always in fact, but to deny healing, and mercy, and love to offer nothing or death to the needy instead is not often what the Merciful asks of us. I fear what happened to me then one day happening to you. You may go to them in time of need and receive what I received then rather than what they offer you now in what is good times for them."

"I know but ... Lord Elrond is no more Noldo than me. His sons even less-so."

"I know. But those who are live in their valley grand-ionneg, most of those left from my time, from Valinor, live with them there. And I know those elves who sailed here and have yet to sail back. I know them better than thee. In your greatest need, come home Tirven. If our home is no longer here then, go to those who love you, your kin, our people. Do not trust your broken body or heart to the ancient Noldo. They will always take a command from one of their highest-ranking own before they take a chance on you, even the best of them, even your best friend."

A longer silence followed broken by the wavering voice of a young elf. "Am ... 'I' so, grand-adar?"

Sarnhael stopped, put the stones down, and looked up to meet Tirven's gaze. He studied the younger elf a long time.

Despite the golden-brown eyes and darker brown hair, warmer toned-skin and green and tan clothing, he knew these facial-features, their expression, and the character they showed. His own traitorous and too-forgiving heart was warmed by them. "You are Noldo in many ways, granionneg. You remind me of the most loyal among them I knew. When even he fell silent at the commander of our fort's final decision, I was shocked by his betrayal. It came nearer to killing me than that arrow. But your grandmother found me, and loved me, and brought me to her people. She never gave up on me while waiting for centuries until my heart was renewed. Only then did I accept her love and give her my own, promised her before others what I had thought I'd never have to give, which is why you have so few cousins compared to many."

Tirven gave a wavering smile. His grandfather smiled back and nodded. "You remind me of her too. You remind me of Sarnin. You seem a mixture to me of the best Noldo and Silvan I ever knew. So be comforted and proud, son of my son."

Tirven's smile lessened. He swallowed. "So ... you think I would take a chance on love and loyalty by denying my commander's orders? Obey a greater command from the Merciful instead?"

Sarnhael stared at him. "What do 'you' think you would do, grand-ioneg?"

Tirven frowned and stared down this time at the sparse grass meeting sand. He remained glaring so long before finally replying. "I think, I could not risk a whole fort of elves to save one even one dear to me. But none would stop me from going to them by myself. Even if I had to sneak, and thus avoid letting others following me in my folly, I would go alone to one I loved at time their of need."

Sarnhael smiled at his kin. "There is something Silvan in you yet, Tirven, lying under the surface. If your beloved, friend, or kin was crying out to you as I did to mine then, you would indeed only turn away to go to them in silence. Your grandmother's heart would not let you do anything else and neither would your Noldo wisdom. Be as proud of you as I."

Tirven's face flooded with light into the greatest smile he could give. Sarnhael smiled back more gently and tilted his head in the direction of the forest. "Now go and spend time with your beloved."

. . .

Far, far away Manwe watched. His gaze focused upon the elves on the lakeshore before it flashed back to one in Imladris fingering a blade in privacy and silence. Then he looked down into Valinor at the plains the eldest ellon he'd been watching once coaxed the younger Noldo to ride through with him.

Varda grabbed her husband's arm and leaned into him with a soft whisper. "How long? How long until we are allowed to mend this breach, my love?"

Manwe looked up from the land and stared into the sky in silence. Then he smiled softly and took the star-kindler's hand in his to give it a soft squeeze. One of his eagles flew up with a screech, flapping it's great wings near his face in joy, before darting back down to sweep over the bright land. Manwe laughed at his scout's report. "Not long ... not long ... pieces are in place, but the one who gave us them and the board tells us to wait, but not much longer my love, not much longer at all do we or they have to wait. Not long at all ..."

 **Tell me what you thought. :)**

 **God Bless**

 **ScribeofHeroes**


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